Bruises
by amessofdreams
Summary: A love story.  AU. Psycho, slut, stalker Blaine has his eyes set on David Karofsky.  As they develop a secret Dom/sub relationship, Blaine's friendship with Kurt begins to turn into more and things get messy.  KINK, SMUT, POLY.  You have been warned.
1. Once and Only Once

_This is a Klainofsky story (Kurt/Blaine/Karofsky), but it starts as a Blainofsky story. The first four chapters are exclusively Blainofsky and then a Klaine storyline begins to develop. **This IS a love story**, though at times it may not appear to be. Every chapter contains some form of sexual encounter. This story is NOT for readers with weak stomachs or impressionable minds._

_**Featured in this story:** BDSM, sub/Dom relationships, spanking, snuggling, stalking, dirty talk, sexual violence, crazy/stalker/slut/sub!Blaine, Dom!Dave, (eventually) teddy-bear!Dave._

**CHAPTER ONE - ONCE AND ONLY ONCE**

"I'll see you next week, dude," Azimio said, peeling off from their side by side gait across McKinley High's parking lot as they reached his car.

"See ya." Dave glanced sideways at Azimio but didn't slow his pace. He adjusted his gym bag on his shoulder and made for his own truck on the other side of the lot. He listened as Azimio's car pulled away but he didn't turn his head. He didn't think about how much he would miss Az while he was away at a family member's funeral. He didn't think about how much he missed Az even when they were in the same room.

He walked down the three foot gap between the passenger side of his truck and the car in the next spot, fishing in his pocket for the keys, but stopped short when he heard someone clear his throat behind him.

For a moment, Dave stood rigid, eyes on the partial reflection in the passenger window. Somebody was walking up behind him - somebody in a suit jacket - but the face was hidden under a glare. Dave turned slowly, heart racing.

It was that fucking prep-boy Kurt had attacked him with all those weeks ago. He had a face that was just begging to get smashed. Too fucking pretty. The guy smiled. Dave tried to think of a single reason for this asshole to be showing up.

"Hi," the guy said, narrowing the gap between them to a little over two feet, "sorry to sneak up on you, I was trying to avoid being seen by your friend."

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

The kid smiled wider. Dave hated that smile - wanted to do things to that smile. "

I'm Blaine," the guy said. "

I didn't ask for a fucking name."

But the guy - Blaine - just kept smiling. Blaine. What a fucking prissy-ass name. As far as names went it was a pretty good match to that face - the name, like the face made Dave want to throw punches. Blaine stepped closer, into Dave's personal bubble and snapped every thought right out of Dave's head.

Wide-eyed, Dave took a step back, chest constricting, suddenly aware of their proximity and of how narrowly closed in they were. He didn't have to glance back to know that there was a fence behind him and probably very little space between his truck's bumper and that. He was trapped like a rat in a maze. No where to run. His heart raced.

He watched with a sick fascination as Blaine looked him up and down and he suddenly felt like he was naked. Blaine's eyes looked wild and hungry and Dave couldn't help looking down at himself and feeling his stomach twist when he tried to imagine what Blaine saw - the sweat-stained t-shirt that probably wreaked, the silky basketball shorts that sometimes showed off too much of his junk, his bare and hairy calves. Dave wondered what Blaine could possibly see there to make him make that expression, with the exception, of course, of the probably obvious bulge. The thought made Dave's nose wrinkle in disgust. _Fucking faggots._

Blaine's eyes snapped suddenly back up to Dave's and his face spread in an open mouth grin that showed entirely too much tongue. Dave felt his face grow hot and he had to look away to break the uncomfortable eye contact. He ground his teeth, and willed himself to take back control, reminding himself that he was bigger, stronger, and better than this asshole in every way. Dropping his bag to the asphalt, he leaned toward Blaine, and looked him in the face, eyes narrow. "

Listen up, pretty boy. I don't know why you're here, but you'd better get the fuck away from me." Dave took a step closer, trying to tower over the smaller boy, trying to scare him shitless. "'Cause if you don't, I will fuck you up. Do you hear me?"

Blaine didn't move. His expression darkened for a moment before it broke into another maddening smile.

Dave felt a pang in his chest. "I said do you hear me?" He growled.

"Yes," Blaine said. His voice weak despite his smile, betraying some reaction at Dave's attempts at intimidation.

The pitiful sound made Dave's chest swell.

Dave took another small step forward, staring down into Blaine's eyes, prepping himself, filling himself with so much hate that he could rip the faggot in half, feeling it for real so Blaine would see it. It was a football tactic - step one, intimidation. Blaine's expression faltered, and Dave smiled an evil fucking smile. Step two, talk shit. "Then why the fuck are you still standing here? Are you retarded, on top of being a raging homo?"

Then slowly, maddeningly, the smile crept back across his face again - mocking Dave. Dave could almost imagine his voice saying, 'I know what you're doing,' in that same snotty tone he'd used to say, 'Kurt told me what you did.'

Dave's stomach clenched at the memory and he swallowed hard, staring hate down at the pretty boy. Blaine took a step so that their faces were inches apart. "I'm still standing here, because I WANT you to fuck me up."

"What?" Dave took one big step backward, confused and terrified, every last piece of his alpha-male dominance zapped.

Blaine grinned and took another step forward and to the side, turning and forcing Dave to turn too - backing him into the side of the truck - so they were face to face and no more backward motion could take place on either side.

"I want you to fuck me up, Karofsky," Blaine said it again, licking his lower lip and smiling that crazy smile. "Kurt doesn't know how lucky he was. If my bullies had secretly wanted to fuck me, I would've put up with anything. I tried to fight it - tried to date a nice guy. I even tried to want Kurt. But my brain keeps coming back to you. I'm not meant for some sappy-sweet love story. I want it rough and nasty and... ever since you pushed me into that fence - GOD - it's the only thought that gets me off anymore. Those big hands pushing me down." Blaine's eyes moved to Dave's hands and he bit his lip.

Dave stood frozen, staring at Blaine with wild eyes. This had to be a dream. Nobody was that fucking crazy and stupid.

Blaine paused and smirked - triumphant. "I want you to bend me over and fuck me senseless, Karofsky. I want you to rough me up. I want you, and I don't even know your first name." Blaine licked his lower lip again, still grinning and looking at Dave like he was something delicious to eat.

When Dave didn't move, Blaine's smile grew even wider and he took that last step, pressing their bodies together.

_Oh God,_ Dave thought, _he's hard... Oh God, so am I!_

Blaine kissed Dave hard on the mouth, tongue immediately teasing at Dave's lips, and in an instant the kiss brought Dave out of his trance. He shoved Blaine away and against the side of the adjacent car. He stepped sideways, finally free of Blaine's trap, grabbed his duffel and then he was running to the other side of the truck - deaf to his own whines, which could as easily have spoken terror as they could have spoken arousal. He ripped the door open, leaping into the driver's seat and jamming his gym bag inside.

Blaine popped up in Dave's peripheral vision and knocked on the passenger side window as Dave scrambled to get the keys in the ignition. "This isn't over," Blaine yelled.

Breathing hard, Dave started the car and peeled out of the spot, tires squealing on the asphalt. He was driving so fast he almost hit a fence and as he left the lot he chanced a look in the rear view mirror at Blaine in his prep-school uniform, shrinking in the distance, standing in the middle of the road and staring after him, still grinning.

"Fuck!" Dave screamed at the interior of his car, hitting the steering wheel as he did. He drove away, screaming profanities, and ignoring the tears streaming down his face.

#

After that day it was like Blaine was everywhere. Dave wasn't used to being stalked. In the hunter/hunted dynamic, Dave had always been the one doing the hunting. Dave was a predator. Not prey. Blaine was completely fucking crazy. Dave was sure of it. Whenever he was out with friends, there was Blaine, leaning against his black Charger, one foot crossed over the other, usually eating something and licking his lips (sometimes Dave even caught him licking his fingers). He was always there, wearing sunglasses to cover his eyes but Dave knew he was staring. It was terrifying, thinking that that psycho could walk over at any moment and expose him.

Every day he got closer to his breaking point, and he didn't know what was going to happen when that moment came.

At 2 AM that Saturday, he walked out of a Denny's with some other football players, and immediately he saw the freak sitting in his car at the far end of the lot. By then, Blaine's car was the first thing he looked for, everywhere he went. It was time. For what? Dave wasn't sure, but this had gone on long enough and he was going to do _something_.

"I'll catch up with you guys later," Dave said, trying to sound normal, as he walked to his truck.

The guys waved him off and kept walking toward their car. Once he was in his truck, Dave sat in the driver's seat pretending to do something on his phone while the other guys took off. When they were gone he breathed a sigh of relief. He sat there for a second, breathing deep, before getting back out of his truck, psyching himself up.

_I'm just going to tell him to fuck off, one more time, and maybe he'll see reason,_ Dave thought. _Yeah. Okay._

He walked toward Blaine's car and noticed Blaine watching him, sipping a soda through a straw like he was a cop on a stake-out. He was so fucking casual about all of it. He had no shame at being caught and approached. This was what he wanted. Attention. It made Dave's stomach turn. _Fucking faggots. Fucking attention whores._

Dave set his face in a glare. Blaine rolled down his window as Dave approached, and when he got there, Dave bent and gripped the window's edge.

"Look, faggot," Dave said, "I don't know why you think this is fun. I don't know why you think this is gonna work. It's not."

Blaine shrugged and smiled up at him. "It's still worth the effort." He bit his lower lip and then smiled as he said, "I want it that bad."

Dave closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "You're seriously gonna hassle me every day knowing I'm never going to give you what you want?"

Blaine laughed at that. "You will."

Dave slammed a fist down on the roof of the car. "I'm not a fag."

"Really?" Blaine bit at the side of his lower lip, like he was trying not to smile.

"I - no! Of course not. I hate fags."

"Enough to teach one a lesson?" Blaine raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"Goddammit!" Dave turned around and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "I don't know why I even came over here. Trying to talk sense to a complete whack job."

"You really think I'm the crazy one? Going after what I want, unlike you - too scared to pursue the pretty little thing you probably pine after every night. Alone."

Dave turned and reached into the car, grabbing Blaine's collar in one swift move. "I don't want Hummel."

"Keep telling yourself that." Blaine stared up at him with what Dave thought was jealousy. _Is he really jealous of my nonexistant relationship with Hummel?_

Dave breathed hard, and pulled Blaine closer. "Keep pushing me and I'll give you exactly what I'd give him."

"A good spanking?" Blaine's eyebrows raised.

That was it. Dave snapped. Before he could think, his fist was through the open window and colliding with Blaine's pretty cheek.

"Fuck!" Blaine yelled, slamming back against his seat and clapping a hand over his face.

Dave ran.

"You BITCH!" Blaine screamed, but Dave barely heard him as he leaped into his car and drove away.

#

Dave showered, still angry, trying not to punch a hole in the shower door. He got into his pajama pants, still angry, trying not to rip them as he pulled them on. Then he got into bed, still angry, unplugging and throwing his lamp against a wall instead of turning it off.

He dropped onto his pillow, grinding his teeth together so hard he thought they might break. He'd get in trouble for the lamp, but he didn't care. All he could bring himself to care about anymore was the gay little monster who was going to ruin his life,

_It's fine,_ He told himself. _I'm okay. He'll lose interest. He'll back off._ He forced himself to breathe slower, deeper - zoned it out, eyes on the illuminated numbers on his alarm clock. Slowly, his muscles relaxed. He rolled onto his back, getting comfortable and closing his eyes.

He was almost asleep when the thoughts came - uncontrollable, just like every night. His cock was hard so fast it was a joke. He thought about tangling his fingers in Blaine's hair, shoving him against a wall, ripping his pants down, fucking him. Hard and cruel.

Dave groaned. _Fine. It's fine if it's just a dream. If it's not real, I'm not a queer. As long as it's not real._

His hand slid inside his pants and curled into a fist around his shaft.

He stroked it slow and tight, moaning softly as pre-cum dribbled over his fingers.

Something tapped against his window. He sat up in bed, rigid and breathless. Another clink hit against the window, but he saw nothing through the glass - just the branches of a tree moving softly in the breeze. His heart raced.

Silence.

_Maybe I imagined it._ Slowly he lay back down, trying to control his breath. _I imagined it._

_Clink._

Dave threw off the covers and ran to the window, ripping it open and leaning out. The cold air hit his bare chest and he shivered. Breathless, he saw Blaine standing on the grass below, inside the side gate, staring up with a bruise blossoming on his cheek, one hand up behind his head, poised to throw another pebble at the window.

"Fuck off," Dave hissed.

Blaine said nothing, just stood there staring up at him, lowering his arm and putting his hands in his pockets.

Dave slammed the window shut and stomped back to bed, climbing under the blankets and putting his head down on the pillow. He breathed hard, wishing it was anger that had him worked up, but his mouth was dry and his dick was still painfully hard. For a while it was quiet. Then...

_Clink._

Dave's heart raced. He could imagine Blaine's voice saying, 'I'm not leaving.' He could imagine his face, eyes starting up at him, determined and a sort of pathetic.

He didn't know what he was doing even as he was doing it. He didn't know, even as his feet moved him silently down the stairs, if he was going to hit Blaine again or -

And then he was in the garage, bare feet on the concrete. He opened the door to the side yard and stepped out, his bare chest cold in the night air. Blaine walked toward him.

"You can hit me all you want," Blaine said, like he'd rehearsed everything he had to say, "it wont change how I fee-" but Dave wasn't listening to any faggy speech.

He grabbed Blaine's arm and spun him around, twisting the arm into his back. He pulled Blaine back against him and put a hand over Blaine's mouth to shut him up. He could feel Blaine breathe hard through his nose. Then he pulled Blaine backward into the garage.

For a minute Dave stood there trying to think straight. _What am I doing?_

Blaine pushed backward against him, pressing his backside against Dave's still hard cock. Blaine groaned and it was the single sweetest thing Dave had ever heard. Blaine started rubbing his perfect ass up and down on Dave's crotch and Dave bit back the moans fighting to get out. He twisted Blaine's arm harder to stop him acting like a cat in heat and Blaine let out a strangled cry - muffled under Dave's hand.

"You listen and you fucking hear me, you got it?" Dave whispered right in Blaine's ear. Blaine nodded. "This happens once, and only once. And if you EVER breathe a WORD of this to anyone, I will fucking kill you."

Blaine nodded again, body otherwise perfectly still in Dave's grasp. Perfectly still. Perfectly obedient.

Dave walked them forward, still holding Blaine against him, forcing Blaine to go ahead. "Open the door," Dave ordered , and Blaine reached out with his free hand, twisting the knob and pushing it open. His foot caught on the baseboard of the doorway as Dave pushed him inside, and Dave had to catch him, pulling him tighter against his body. "Try not to trip," Dave hissed.

They moved into the hall, and Blaine's fancy shoes clicked on the tile. "Shoes off," Dave whispered, heart racing. He loosened his grip on Blaine's arm to let him bend and undo his laces. Awkwardly hanging beneath Dave, Blaine kicked off his shoes, and then leaned back so his shoulders pressed to Dave's chest. "Pick them up, jackass," Dave murmured. Blaine groaned, so Dave pushed him forward, bending him over. The move forced Blaine's ass back against Dave's hard cock, and Dave gasped at the pressure. Blaine picked up his shoes, rubbing just a little, side to side. "Cocktease," Dave muttered, pulling Blaine back upright.

He directed Blaine forward down the hall toward the stairs. Blaine stumbled on the steps more than once, so Dave had to hold him close - keep him upright. He suspected Blaine was doing it on purpose, wanting to be close, but he couldn't complain. Every time their hips bumped together Blaine moaned so Dave had to shush him, though he himself wanted to do the same. At the top of the stairs, Dave paused and breathed, getting himself back into the right frame of mind for what was coming then he moved, fluid, every step planned.

He walked Blaine into his bedroom, closed the door, and threw Blaine at the bed. The way he stumbled into the bed, hands thrown forward to break his fall, made Dave smile.

Dave turned and walked to his dresser, grabbing a pair of briefs and then stalking back over to the bed. Blaine had turned around and he sat on the edge of the bed to watch Dave. He looked pale and lovely in the moonlight. His eyes lingered on the briefs.

"To shut you up," Dave explained, moving forward, ready to shove the wad of cloth into Blaine's mouth.

Blaine nodded, exhaling hard, licked his lips and then held out a hand, temporarily stopping Dave in his tracks. "There's something else you could put in my mouth to keep me quiet."

Dave's heart skipped a beat. _You dirty slut_, he thought, staring at Blaine with disbelief. He paused, but only for a second and then immediately tossed the briefs at the bed and pulled his cock up and out of the waistband of his pajama pants. Blaine's eyes went wide, staring at it.

"Look good?" Dave asked with a sneer, stroking himself slowly.

Blaine nodded, too focused to be embarrassed. Dave walked forward those last few steps so that his cock was right in front of Blaine's face, and gave Blaine just enough time to open his lips before pushing his cock between them - pushing in and up at the roof of Blaine's mouth.

A stuttering moan escaped Dave's lips and a shiver ran up his spine - his body wholly take over by the sensation of contact. The little fag tightened his lips around Dave's cock and started licking at every bit of it that his tongue could reach. Dave grabbed Blaine's head and Blaine grabbed Dave's hips. Dave started to fuck Blaine's mouth, pushing gently at the back of his throat.

After just a moment of resistance, Dave felt Blaine's throat opening for him. The little bitch knew what he was doing.

He pushed himself all the way in and groaned helplessly. Blaine moaned his encouragement until Dave started thrusting in and out, fucking Blaine's throat and feeling like he was going to come before even getting a chance to see Blaine's ass, bare and bent beneath him. _Fuck!_ He wanted to see it.

Right at the brink of coming, Dave pulled Blaine's hair, yanking him backward off his cock. Blaine gasped and coughed, spit and come stretching in a little rope between his mouth and Dave's cock. Dave closed his eyes and grabbed the head of his cock, squeezing hard to keep from coming.

When the moment had passed, Dave leaned forward and grabbed the briefs off the bed. He paused only for a moment to look at the spit and precum on Blaine's lips before he shoved the wad in Blaine's mouth. Blaine stared up at him, eyes on fire, the make-shift gag keeping his mouth from closing all the way, and Dave just stood there holding his cock, trying to calm down.

Dave tried to breathe slow as he watched Blaine sitting there. He watched Blaine's chest rise and fall. _He wants it bad,_ Dave thought. _He wants it_.

Blaine reached out toward Dave's cock, but Dave slapped his hands away. He saw Blaine's adam's apple bob in his throat. _God, that's hot_.

For a few moments he just stood there, breathing and staring down at Blaine, willing himself to hate him, to want to hurt him. The hate would make it last longer. He was so fucking beautiful. Too beautiful.

Blaine stared up, eyes wide and longing and confused. The silence lasted long enough that he started reaching up to take the briefs out of his mouth, but Dave grabbed his hand.

Blaine gasped as Dave flipped him onto his stomach in one swift move.

Dave grabbed him by his belt and lifted his ass up into the air, pushing him forward across the bed and forcing him into a doggie position.

Blaine reached down and undid his fly and belt and Dave yanked the fabric down.

And there it was. Pale and perfectly curved. _And all mine_, Dave thought. He slapped Blaine's bare ass, hard, and the briefs muffled Blaine's cry. Dave liked the sound of Blaine's pain so much a part of him wanted to just do that and nothing else, over and over, until Blaine cried.

But he had other plans for that ass, and he wasn't going to waste any time. He stepped forward, one hand still on his dick, getting it closer to the pink pucker of Blaine's asshole. Briefly, Dave wondered if he was going about this wrong - if he was going to hurt Blaine. He decided that he didn't care and stepped forward.

He didn't notice Blaine digging in his pocket but he did notice when Blaine's hand reached back with a little foil packet in it.

Dave scrunched up his nose. He'd never used a condom before. Of course, he'd never fucked anyone before either. He thought briefly of ignoring it and just going for it, bare, but then he thought about how good of a cock-sucker Blaine was. The fag had experience. That meant he'd been with other fags before.

Dave grabbed the condom, ripped it open, and rolled it on his dick, grumbling wordlessly, while watching Blaine kick his pants the rest of the way off. The outside of the condom was slippery. He wasn't sure if he was happy or sad about that.

He put his cock against Blaine's asshole - Dave had NO intention of touching it with his hand - and started to push in.

Blaine whined prettily and Dave ground down, loving those whines. The ridge of the head popped inside and it felt like heaven. Dave's eyes crossed at how tight and hot it felt. He stopped to breathe, and thought vaguely that he was doing the little princess a favor by pausing, but Blaine just pushed back against him taking him further. He was so impatient - wanted it so bad - that Dave felt like he was going to lose it immediately.

He reached forward and grabbed Blaine's hair, yanking his head back. Blaine yelled into the cloth. _God, that felt good._

"You move when I tell you to," Dave hissed.

Blaine nodded.

Dave shoved his face down into the comforter and held it there, then started pushing deeper. It was easier than he expected.

"God you're a little fucking whore, aren't you?" Dave whispered, letting go of Blaine's head and slipping his hands to Blaine's hips.

Blaine moaned out a muffled, "Uh-huh."

With two hands on Blaine's ass, Dave started to thrust in, over and over and Blaine writhed beneath him groaning. Slowly, his thrusts picked up speed and he had to struggle to not moan, biting his lip and furrowing his brow.

The bottom hem of Blaine's shirt and jacket started to slip up farther on his back, moved by the rhythm. Mesmerized by the newly bare skin and the thought of seeing Blaine completely naked, Dave slid his hands up Blaine's back to push the cloth up further so he could see Blaine's ribs. He realized for the first time how fit Blaine was. The muscles of his sides and back and legs were toned and beautiful under a thin coat of fine black hair. It looked like the body of an athelete. Blaine was something more than he'd seemed to be.

Dave wondered vaguely, dizzily, why Blaine wasn't jerking off. Without thinking about it, he grabbed Blaine's dick. That was a rush - holding his cock, feeling it throb and twitch, feeling the ridges and veins under his hand.

Suddenly Dave started to fuck Blaine harder, jerking him off with an odd, stuttering rhythm. Dave felt dizzy. He felt cum - or precum, he wasn't sure which - dribble onto his fingers and he had a sudden urge to taste it. Instead of doing that, he leaned forward slowing his pace and whispered, "You done?"

Blaine shook his head.

"Good," Dave muttered, not even hearing himself. He let go of Blaine's dick and pulled out, then flipped Blaine onto his back before getting between his legs again. He thrust himself back in, sweat dripping from his brow. "Come for me," Dave ordered, sliding one hand up Blaine's stomach, pushing his shirt up again so he could see Blaine's abs. _He's fucking perfect._ Dave's eyes slid over to those lines running right down to his cock. _Fuck._

He swallowed hard at the sight and grabbed Blaine's hips. He starting to pound into him, fucking him ragged. He didn't look him in the eye, just watched as Blaine's hand slid down and started to stroke his dick. _God, he even fucking teases himself,_ Dave thought, watching those slow measured strokes.

Then suddenly, Blaine's hand sped up and Blaine was writhing on the bed, mussing up the comforter and arching upward. Dave sped up as Blaine did, still entranced by the other boy's movements, so rough that the bedframe started scraping against the wall.

Without pausing to think, Dave grabbed Blaine's free arm and put it up around his neck. Then grabbed Blaine's ass and lifted him off the bed, cock still buried deep. Blaine scrambled to get a better hold of Dave, and clung to him, thighs tight around Dave's hips.

Dave smiled, wishing he had a camera and could capture that moment to watch again and again - Blaine, helpless and clinging and strong enough to really hold on.

Slowly, Dave walked Blaine to the wall facing the front yard, trying to keep the sound away from his parents as much as possible, and pressed Blaine's back to it, steadying him before he started fucking him up against it, panting like a dog and staring at Blaine's stupid fucking striped tie, regretting that he hadn't ripped it off earlier.

Blaine's hand started up again, stroking fast, over and over and over and Dave felt Blaine's legs clamp around him, and he felt Blaine's ass clench around his cock. Blaine came, his cum spurting up onto his stomach, narrowly missing that tie, his moans and cries stifled by the cloth in his mouth.

Dave glanced up for just a second to see those pretty, dark eyes roll back, then pounded harder and harder into the now limp Blaine and bit hard on the boy's neck to muffle a low grunt as he came. Blaine's eyes flew up to the ceiling and he squealed at the pain of the bite, holding on to Dave for dear life.

Then everything was still. Dave nuzzled the angry red marks on Blaine's neck, breathing slow, until his knees felt weak.

Slowly, Dave pulled Blaine closer, chest to chest and let his dick slip out. Blaine's legs and arms slid tight around him. Dave walked them back to the bed and fell down onto it. When Blaine's grip on Dave relaxed, Dave slowly sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes.

Blaine just lay across the bed, weak and breathing heavily, eventually pulling the briefs out of his mouth.

Dave got up and pulled the condom off, grabbing three tissues off of his nightstand, wrapping the condom in one to disguise it before throwing it in the trash. He sighed heavily and then walked back to the bed, wiping the cum off his dick with the second tissue and then handing the third to Blaine.

Blaine didn't clean himself right away. He seemed too worn out to move - eyes closed, head back, naked only from the waist down.

Dave stared at him, wondering with a smile if he had passed out. His eyes rested on that pretty bruised face, mouth open, expression slack and dumb like someone had hit him over the head with a two-by-four. Then, Dave's eyes slid down over his disheveled shirt and jacket, finally stopping at Blaine's dick. Dave licked his lips.

Blaine's stomach and cock were still covered in a thin layer of cum. The light from outside the window hit it at a slant and made it shine just a little.

For what felt like the millionth time that night, Dave moved without thinking. He knelt next to the bed and bent low to press his tongue to Blaine's stomach, licking the cum away. Blaine's eyes flew open and he lifted his head enough to watch.

Dave's face ran hot, but he didn't stop. He licked Blaine's stomach clean, tongue rubbing against the little trail of fine black hair leading down to Blaine's cock. It tasted... okay. Not good. Not bad. Kind of bitter. The taste wasn't the point.

He only paused for a moment before letting his tongue run up the shaft of Blaine's cock. Blaine let out a quiet little cry, biting his lip to muffle himself, now that the gag was gone.

Dave licked over every bit of Blaine's cock, blushing harder when he realized Blaine was starting to get hard again. He heard Blaine's breath drag in in an oddly strangled way as his tongue ran over the head. When he was done - when Blaine was clean - Dave lifted his eyes for just a moment - a moment to look up at Blaine's eyes - eyes that spoke something unbelievably dark and filthy.

He looked for just a moment and had to look away, feeling somehow unworthy of seeing such an intense emotion in somebody else.

As his eyes swept back down from Blaine's face, they caught sight of Blaine's hand resting palm up on the bed beside his hip, covered in the same thin coat. Dave had been about to stand up, but the sight made him pause.

As though Blaine knew what Dave was thinking he slowly lifted his hand, not bringing it right to Dave's face, but bringing it much closer.

Dave bit his lip, staring at it, and then slowly leaned forward and ran the flat of his tongue over the palm of Blaine's hand, all the way up to his fingertips. Blaine's hand was soft and delicate but there were little callouses on his fingertips, and Dave wondered what they were from.

Tentative and nervous about what it might mean to the other boy, Dave slowly sucked Blaine's pointer finger into his mouth.

Blaine went very quiet, and Dave got that familiar feeling of being watched - that feeling of watched by Blaine. It gave him chills, and he was starting to... actually... like it.

Gently, Blaine pushed another finger into Dave's mouth, and Dave took it in, sucking it clean, before pulling back. _Enough of that,_ Dave thought. _Don't want him getting the wrong idea._

Dave licked Blaine's ring finger and his pinkie finger quickly before pulling away and standing up, never looking Blaine in the eye. He bent and pushed Blaine roughly so that he was lying lengthwise on the bed instead of across it. The smaller boy was so easy to push around.

Then Dave got in under the covers and nestled into his pillows and closed his eyes.

Blaine laid there and stared at him for a moment, his breath uneven, his expression torn, then he got up from the bed and started looking around the room for his pants. When he located them he bent, weakly, to pick them up.

"Should be doing the opposite," Dave mumbled, peaking through his eyelashes at Blaine's backside.

Blaine paused, breathing hard, then turned back to the bed. Dave's eyes looked like they were closed, but Blaine had to know he'd been peeking at him. Slowly, Blaine stood, eyes on Dave, then he walked up to the edge of the bed and started taking off his jacket, his tie, and then his shirt.

Dave's breath caught as he watched Blaine strip through his eyelashes. He let himself stare at that blurred image of Blaine's stomach and chest, and bit the inside of his lip, hoping Blaine couldn't see that.

Dave watched as Blaine pulled back the covers and then lay down in front of Dave, with his back to him - so close - in Dave's little twin bed. Dave yawned, pretending this was all something casual, and put an arm around Blaine, pulling him in and spooning him tight. He forced himself not to jump up and start making wild exclamations expressing how fucking amazing he felt. He forced himself to lay there, quietly enjoying the warmth of Blaine's body, the feeling of skin on skin, the gentle rhythmic movement of Blaine's breath, and slowly, Dave slipped off to sleep.

{_reviews are always appreciated_}


	2. Love Marks

_This is a Klainofsky story (Kurt/Blaine/Karofsky), but it starts as a Blainofsky story. The first four chapters are exclusively Blainofsky and then a Klaine storyline begins to develop. __**This IS a love story**__, though at times it may not appear to be. Every chapter contains some form of sexual encounter. This story is NOT for readers with weak stomachs or impressionable minds._

_**Featured in this story:**__ BDSM, sub/Dom relationships, spanking, snuggling, stalking, dirty talk, sexual violence, crazy/stalker/slut/sub!Blaine, Dom!Dave, (eventually) teddy-bear!Dave._

**CHAPTER TWO - LOVE MARKS**

When Dave started to come back to the world of the living, he was happier than he remembered being in a long time. He woke slowly, feeling the sheets beneath his hand, seeing the red glow of the sun through his eyelids, smelling the faint scent of Blaine's hair in his bed and smiling. He stretched and then curled onto his side like a happily slumbering puppy, hugging his pillow tight to his cheek. Everything was different. Everything was wonderful. Even the air felt cleaner - fuller in his lungs. Then it happened - realization dawning. The bed was too comfortable. He had too much room to stretch.

His eyes snapped open to confirm his suspicion. Blaine was gone. Dave sat up and looked around, breathless. There was no sign of him.

Blaine's clothes were gone. His shoes were gone.

_He_ was gone.

Dave felt panic set in on him. He got up and hastily looked over the whole room. He stuck his head through the bathroom door - empty - and then rushed into the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen where his dad was making breakfast.

"Morning, David." The smell of bacon hit his nose and the sound of it crackling in the pan hit his ears. That usually was enough to catch Dave's whole attention, but nothing in that moment mattered as much as finding Blaine.

"Dad, have you seen..." Dave breathed and thought quickly. "...anything unusual this morning?" He tried to mask the panic in his voice.

Paul paused and looked at him. "No. David, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just... lost something." Dave hurried back out of the room and up the stairs, to avoid having to explain himself. _Oh, God. I __dreamed __it. Oh, God._

He ran into his room, feeling like he was about to hyperventilate, then he saw it - a pair of black boxer briefs laying on his bed, right next to the pillow.

Dave sprinted across the room and grabbed them, bringing them to his face and breathing in the bitter scent of sweat. It should've been disgusting but he didn't even care. He let out a strangled sigh.

It was real.

He almost laughed. The high came flooding back to him and he lay back on the bed. It was real, and Blaine left him a little token - a promissory note of more to come, or so he thought.

_Still, it was shitty of __him__ to just leave like that_.

Dave tried to imagine it – Blaine getting dressed in the early morning hours, watching Dave sleep, and deciding to put his underwear right next to him on the bed. Maybe it was a thoughtful thing - getting out before anyone could catch him there. Doing it for Dave's sake - protecting him. For a moment, Dave was in ecstasy at the thought, and for the whole day he was happy, excited for the next time that little freak showed up in his rear view mirror.

But he didn't.

Days passed with no sight of Blaine, and every day, Dave got angrier.

#

"Okay, dude, what's up?" Az asked.

Dave looked up, mouth full of his second hot dog, and saw real concern on Azimio's face. Dave swallowed. "What?"

"We're supposed to be having our traditional welcome back dogs."

"We are." Dave rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but you don't look happy to see me."

"I am."

"You gave me a half-assed bro-hug and then started shoving dogs in your face like you're in a competition. Dude, I know you. You only eat like this when you're pissed."

Dave grumbled and licked mustard off the corner of his lips. "It's..." Dave sighed. "It's stupid. It's nothing."

Az gave Dave a look.

Dave sighed loudly. "Okay... this... this bitch was all over my dick, right? Fucking stalking me."

Az laughed.

"So finally, I give the bitch what she wants, right? I fuck her. I fuck her good. Then she disappears! Puts her fucking underwear on my bed and leaves while I'm still asleep."

"And?"

"And... I don't know. She didn't even leave me her number."

Az laughed. Hard.

Dave stared at him. "Dude. It's not funny. I'm freaking pissed."

"She's playing you, dude."

Dave grabbed his hot dog and shoved the rest of it in his mouth, chewing sloppily. He felt horrible and he knew eating wasn't making it better but he couldn't stop himself.

"It's classic chick shit."

"It's fucking confusing," Dave said through a mouthful of food.

"Girls like it when you work for the pussy. She got you all into her and then left you to realize how bad you want it so _you_ have to go after _her_."

Dave furrowed his brow, and swallowed. That sounded plausible. _Gay guys are like chicks, right?_

"So, what're you gonna do?" Az asked with a smirk.

"I don't know. Nothing. Fuck her. I wasn't even into it until she..." Dave sighed. "Nothing. I'm just gonna forget her."

Az slapped Dave's shoulder. "Dude. No. You're not. Who cares if you were into it to begin with? You're into it now. And you've got her in your pocket. I mean... was she into it, when you did it? Did she get off?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so you didn't fuck it up or anything?"

"I... no. I don't think so." Dave hadn't thought of that. _Did I do__ something wrong? Something to turn Blaine off?_ "Maybe? Dammit, Az. Now all I can think is that I did something wrong."

Azimio laughed. "It has been too long since we got you laid, dude. You're a stud. Stop worrying about it. She was into it, right?"

"Dude, I don't know."

"Was she like, writhing around and shit?" Az asked leaning forward over the table, grabbing both sides with his hands. "Was she comin' her brains out on your cock? Was she, 'ah Ah AH AH.'" He rocked in his chair and made a ridiculous O-face, making Dave cover his face with his hands and laugh. "'DAVE FUCK DAVE FUCK ME DAVE!'"

"Dude. Don't. Don't do that in a fucking restaurant," Dave muttered, glancing at the cashier who was glaring at them from the other end of the otherwise empty Dog Shack. He couldn't help grinning.

"Well, was she?" Az asked, leaning back and taking a bite of his hot dog, smirking.

Dave shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Not exactly."

"No?" Az asked like he couldn't believe it. "Come on. Your dick is bigger than mine and you're a white boy. You can't tell me she wasn't lovin' that shit."

Dave grinned, and then leaned in and whispered, "She wasn't exactly like that because she had a gag in her mouth."

Az laughed out loud and hit the table. "Damn, boy. That's fucked up."

"It was hot," Dave said with a smirk and a shrug.

Az shook his head and then smiled up at Dave - that smile that only Az had. "But she was into it, right?"

"Yeah. All the other shit. Writhing. Coming. Yeah."

Az threw up his hands. "You're a stud dude. She's gotta still want it, and if she DOES, and she's not doing anything about it, she IS playing you. So it's gonna be easy now. You know she wants it. You just gotta play the game."

"How?"

"You do what she did." Az laughed. "Shit, dude. This is GOOD. You've been so hard up for pussy, I was starting to think you were gay."

Dave glared at Azimio, feeling heat rush to his face and hoping it wouldn't show.

Az held his hands up. "I know. I know. If anyone knows you're not gay, it's me." He grinned. "Look, bitches are crazy. You wanna get with her? Out crazy her."

Dave's lips twisted as he thought about it. He COULD out crazy Blaine. he started to smile meanly down at his third hot dog. "Okay."

Az grinned wider. "That's my boy."

#

Blaine washed his hands, staring down at them and not at his reflection in the mirror. It was the end of the day - one more day gone after what happened in Karofsky's bedroom. He sighed and grabbed a paper towel out of the dispenser, drying his hands and finally looking up at himself.

The bruise was still there, still dark and angry. Explaining it to his parents... friends... Kurt had been difficult. Explaining the hickey on his neck had been worse. He'd managed to hide it for a few days but Kurt's attention to detail was impeccable and, of course, Kurt couldn't let it go.

So they were decidedly not hanging out today. Just like they hadn't hung out the day before. Every time they were in the same room, Blaine could see Kurt getting sour and sour-er, eyes stuck on that lovely red mark peeking out from under Blaine's collar. He felt guilty about it, but it was out of his control. He'd done what he'd done because he had to, hadn't he?

Blaine tossed the paper towel in the trash and leaned forward, touching the bruise gently and wincing.

He couldn't bring himself to hate it. In fact, for the first few days, when he saw it, it made him smile. It made him feel triumphant. Against impossible odds, he'd gotten what he wanted.

_I got what I wanted,_ he thought, _and it's enough. It'll be enough for a while._

It was that indeterminate "while" that nagged at him. How long would it take for Blaine to dissolve into a mess of lust again? How long would it take before he was ready to do something crazy again?

But he was determined to keep his agreement with Karofsky.

'This happens once, and only once,' he'd said.

Blaine smiled into the mirror, trying to be pleased that it had happened at all. And he was. Really, he was. It had been everything he'd wanted.

_And now you can stop being a clingy bitch,_ he thought. _Now you can stop being a creeper. It's done. Over. Out of my system._

But it wasn't out of his system. Not by a long shot. He'd spent most of the Warblers' meeting wondering if he could talk Kurt into topping. Wondering if he could talk Kurt into not just topping, but topping hard and mean. But the sexual positions weren't the problem with Kurt. The problem was the emotional pressure. Kurt always wanted things to be perfect. He wanted something sweet and delicate and constant. He wanted promises.

Blaine really wished he could be that kind of guy, but his attention span for love was about as long as the circumference of a coffee cup. His attention span for pain... that was something else entirely.

He ran his fingers through his hair, grabbed his school bag off a hook, slung it over his shoulder, and left the bathroom.

He was still stuck between thoughts of Karofsky's hands, eyes, jaw, chest, and Kurt's attitude, grace, composure, and sarcasm as he walked through the halls. Maybe he could find a way to convert Kurt's bitchiness into something real - something dark and twisted and wonderful. Maybe he could find some way of blending all the best things about Kurt and all the best things about Karofsky into one perfect boyfriend. Maybe he could train Kurt. But he didn't really have the patience for that.

He walked all the way out of the school and across the parking lot so lost in thought that he didn't notice Karofsky's all too familiar truck parked on the other side of the street.

Blaine got in his Charger, dropping his book bag in the passenger seat and checking himself again in the mirror.

His nose wrinkled in disgust. _Bruises are so temporary. In a week it'll be gone and I won't have anything to remember it by_, Blaine thought. He thought, only vaguely, of breaking the agreement to leave Karofsky alone before starting the car and backing out of his spot. _No, no. I can't do that..._ he thought. _But why? _Blaine had already done plenty of unconscionable things in his pursuit of cock. But he couldn't just ignore Karofsky's request. He actually - and it came as something of a surprise - wanted to obey him.

He put his iPod on shuffle and drove home with Gaga blaring so loud the people in passing cars could hear it. He didn't care. He didn't care and he didn't notice anything other than the road in front of him.

He was gone - lost in an ocean of thoughts, some nasty, some hopeful, some tragic - and he didn't notice that truck following two cars behind.

#

Blaine stood in the kitchen, chopping lettuce and dropping it in the salad spinner. It felt good to be destroying something - even if it was just produce. He started singing absentmindedly.

"I want your ugly. I want your disease. I want your everything as long as it's-"

The doorbell rang, and Blaine dropped the knife onto the cutting board, angry at the disturbance. _Everything makes me angry now_, he thought, stalking into the front hall. _If it's the damn Jehovah's Witnesses, I swear..._

He composed himself - plastered on that perfect smile - and pulled the door open. The fake smile quickly turned into a frown when he realized that no one was there. His eyebrows moved in toward each other and he looked around. _Did I imagine__ the doorbell ringing?_

A breeze blew by and rustled the corners of a slip of notebook paper sitting under a dirt crusted rock on the porch right in front of him.

Blaine licked his lip and bent down to grab the piece of paper, tugging it gently out from under the rock. Scrawled across it in a messy but legible hand were the words: "good girls leave their #s, not their panties. are mommy and daddy home?"

Blaine's heart sped up and a grin spread across his face. It had to be Karofsky. He hadn't left his underwear for someone ever before. Hell, at the time that he did it he wasn't even really sure why he was doing it. He just couldn't bring himself to leave without doing SOMETHING.

He hurried back inside and closed the door, heart racing, then rushed into the kitchen, dirty note in hand, and rummaged in a junk drawer for a pen. On the blank side of the page he wrote: "nobody's home but me."

He ran back to the front door, sliding on the hardwood in his socked feet, then very briefly composed himself before opening it. He walked out, casual and cool, and slid the note back under it's rock before turning back to the house. He walked in, and almost closed the door - but not quite - and as soon as he was hidden from the outside world he was running again, up the stairs and into his bedroom.

He slammed the door behind himself. _Not much time_, he thought. He'd spent a week prepared for sex, when he was expecting it - ready to be taken at a moment's notice - but after what happened, after Karofsky gave his ultimatum and Blaine agreed to it, he'd stopped thinking of it as an impending possibility, and he'd stopped perpetually prepping himself.

Blaine opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and dug underneath his folded pajama pants and other miscellaneous articles of clothing for his secret stash.

He pulled out a bottle of lube and the pretty purple butt-plug, just the right size for pre-coital stretching. After placing the contraband on his desk, Blaine undid his belt and fly and dropped his pants and his red boxer-briefs to his knees. He popped the cap on the bottle of lube and poured a glob onto his fingers.

Bending over the desk for support, Blaine ran two lube slick fingers over his asshole and pressed them slowly in, groaning at the sudden intrusion, but only a little. He ran his fingers around the inside, coating it and only pressing very gently at his prostate, eliciting a whine from his own mouth, before pulling his fingers out.

He poured lube over the plug and spread it around with one hand before reaching back and pressing it to his entrance. Then slowly, but not too slowly, he pressed it in.

He heard the front door open downstairs and squeaky footsteps on the floor.

Licking his lips he pushed the toy all the way over the threshold until it sat in place and then straightened up, wiggling a little as he adjusted to the feeling of being full. Then he grabbed a babywipe from the still opened bottom drawer and quickly cleaned his hands.

He pulled his pants back up, and zipped up his fly, and he was about to fasten his belt buckle when he heard a creak from the stairs. His breath caught in his chest, and his fingers paused.

_It's not enough time... I'm not ready,_ Blaine thought, breathless. _I'll pick a fight with him. Buy time. Oh, God._ He was so hard already.

Blaine fastened his belt buckle and heard another creak in the hall, right on the landing at the top of the stairs. He checked himself in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it back down. Then he heard a click - a door closing.

For a moment, Blaine did nothing, then he walked to his door and opened it slowly, leaning out to check the hallway. It was empty.

Blaine's heart raced. He stepped out and tried to breathe slow. "Is someone there?" he called out to the empty hall.

A silent moment passed and then Blaine heard a creak of floorboards to his right. _He's in the guest room_, Blaine thought, taking a step toward the door and then stopping. A grin spread across Blaine's face as realization washed over his mind. _Cat and mouse,_ Blaine thought. And yes, he wanted to play.

"Hello?" Blaine called out, playing along, and he made for the stairs, taking them at a slow and steady pace, imagining that he was acting "normal," and trying not to make any noise to give away the pangs of ecstasy as the plug moved with every step. When he was halfway down the stairs he heard the guestroom door open.

Humming and smiling, Blaine took the last few steps at a bit of a skip, and he walked into the kitchen.

He went back to making his salad, as though everything was totally normal. He hummed happily and watched the lettuce crunch and split under his knife. When he was finished he tossed some handfuls of spinach in the already half full spinner and then took it to the sink, filling it with water. He heard movement somewhere in the house and his heart thumped. His head was too full of excitement to think much of anything except, _it's happening again._

An idea hit him. _I'll sing!_ The sound of his voice might lead Karofsky to him faster and it might cover the sound of his approach adding to the thrill of the impending attack. He sang the first thing that came to mind.

"I want your psycho, your vertigo stick. Want you in my rear window, baby you're sick. I want your love." Blaine pressed down the plunger on the salad spinner and watched it spin. "Love, love, love. I want your love. You know that I want you, and you know that I need you. I want it bad your bad-"

It happened - big arms closing around Blaine's lithe body. Blaine yelped just a little as Karofsky grabbed him, one hand at Blaine's waist and one hand over Blaine's mouth, just like before.

_God, just like before..._

"You've been bad," Karofsky whispered.

Blaine groaned as Karofsky's hard-on brushed against his ass and then suddenly, the bigger boy was dragging him backward, away from the kitchen. _Yesssssssssss_, Blaine thought, whining against Karofsky's big, calloused hand.

Blaine kicked and struggled against Karofsky's grasp, wanting it to feel real and horrible and filthy and wonderful, and then suddenly Karofsky threw him down on the sofa.

Blaine found himself on his back, awkwardly sprawled across the cushions, breathing hard, face red from the exertion. He stared at the jock, all decked out in his letterman jacket and jeans, and Blaine's eyes went dark with lust so hot it looked like hate.

"What?" Karofsky asked, "You don't want this anymore?" He grabbed his crotch and glared at Blaine.

Blaine stared up at him, pulse racing. "I do," he insisted.

"Then why didn't you leave your number, Princess?"

Blaine gaped. _What? My number? But he didn't want it to be a continuing thing. He... _"I... but you..."

But Karofsky was unbuttoning his pants, and Blaine couldn't think of much else. Like he was in a trance, Blaine crawled down off the sofa, onto the carpet, giving Karofsky reason to pause and breathe. Blaine knelt in front of him, hands on the sides of Karofsky's thighs, mouth open. He stared up at him, at his face, thinking, _do with me what you will_, though he couldn't manage to say a thing.

Karofsky laughed - a real laugh, not a mean one. "Oh, shit, you really do want it." He looked down at Blaine's face and for the first time Blaine saw something soft in his eyes. Karofsky's eyebrows spread, and his face smoothed out as his tongue snuck out for just a moment over his lower lip.

Blaine melted. The game was over.

He leaned in and closed his eyes, and nuzzled the fly of Karofsky's jeans, breathing in gently. "Yes," he murmured.

"Shit," Karofsky muttered again, unzipping his fly for Blaine.

Blaine reached up and put his fingers in Karofsky's waistband, pulling his pants and briefs down in one movement so that his cock bounced up and hit Blaine in the chin.

Blaine pulled back, breathless, and looked at it, thick and hard and red. _Fuck, he's big. Bigger than I thought in the dark..._ Blaine opened his mouth and took the head in, sucking and bobbing and licking. He stroked the shaft slowly as his mouth teased the head - tongue running over and over the slit.

He pulled back and pressed a kiss the tip of Karofsky's cock, gently, to see how he would take it - not really sure if he wanted the bully to accept the teasing tenderness, or reject it and force himself into Blaine's throat.

He heard little whimpering noises from Karofsky, but he didn't look up - afraid of making it too intimate, afraid Karofsky wasn't ready.

Leaning in, Blaine slid his lips halfway down Karofsky's cock and started rocking back and forth. His ass clenched with every backward movement so that the pressure on his prostate started to come in a rhythm. Blaine moaned loudly around Karofsky's cock and he felt the bigger boy shudder.

Through his eyelashes, Blaine saw Karofsky shed his jacket, and toss it at the sofa.

Blaine rocked harder back and forth, moaning all the while, and taking him deeper and deeper into his mouth.

"Fuck me," Karofsky muttered.

Blaine smiled to himself at the slip, thinking, _maybe, one day, I will_. Then he pushed all the way down, until his throat was full of Karofsky's dick, and tears were wetting his eyes, and his nose was pressed against the fine, soft hairs of Karofsky's happy trail.

He paused briefly, trying not to gag, and swallowing gently, letting his throat muscles squeeze the head. Blaine heard a low groan from the the other boy's throat and felt a tear run down his own cheek. He brushed it away casually. _Useless byproduct. _He wasn't about to let any bodily reaction interfere with his work.

Then he started to rock back and forth again, taking Karofsky deep every time, and feeling the plug stretching him every time.

Precum rolled down Blaine's painfully hard cock and he moaned loudly, suddenly shifting to a higher speed of motion, like he was fucking his own throat on Karofsky's cock.

Blaine slid his hands to Karofsky's ass and started pulling him, forcing him to move, willing him to come deep down his throat. Blaine whined around Karofsky's cock. The sound came out stuttering as his head moved forward and backward, over and over again, rapidly. _Come for me_, Blaine thought and then he slid one hand across the taught skin of Dave's hip and down to the inside of his thigh and cupped his balls, squeezing gently

Karofsky released a low and desperate whine and Blaine felt his cock twitch against the inside of his throat.

Blaine swallowed over and over and glanced up to see Karofsky's face twist in orgasm and his eyes close.

For a moment, Blaine just took him in, staring up at Karofsky's muscled chest and arms - clothed in a lose polo shirt that didn't do them any kind of justice - and his round boyish face - beet red and frozen in a soundless scream. It was just a moment, and then Karofsky grunted, and the tension in his face disappeared, and those soft eyes opened and Blaine averted his gaze like a pious worshiper, unworthy of looking.

Slowly, Karofsky pulled out, and as the head left Blaine's mouth Blaine snuck one last lick at it, which made the bigger boy laugh - another sweet little laugh.

Karofsky sank to his knees on the floor in front of Blaine. He smiled. A real smile. A smile that could melt and evaporate an iceberg.

He looked like a little boy who'd just won his first football game.

Blaine smiled, daring enough to look him in the eye, shy enough to do it through his eyelashes.

Then Karofsky was grinning like an imp and reaching forward and undoing Blaine's fly and belt. Blaine gasped, and leaned forward, closing his eyes.

"Karofsky," Blaine murmured as Karofsky's big, muscular hand slid around Blaine's already slick cock.

The bigger boy laughed. "It's, Dave," he said.

Blaine smiled at that. "Dave," he moaned, already deeply enjoying the sound of it, and then laughed softly as a kind of relief washed over him. God, he had wanted to know that name.

Dave started to stroke Blaine's cock and Blaine grunted at the friction of those calluses rubbing against the tender skin of his head.

Blaine reached down and guided Dave's hand lower, trying to get him to stick to the shaft. He chanced a look at Dave's face and saw him staring down at Blaine's cock, brow furrowed in a kind of weird intensity. He felt like he could hear Dave's voice - barking out a clipped explanation for his actions. 'Wanna do it right,' he imagined Dave saying.

There was something so bizarrely sweet about the moment. Blaine felt his heart flutter. He bit his lip and leaned in just a little, thinking about kissing Dave, staring at those lips.

Suddenly, Dave paused. Blaine whimpered as Dave's hand released his cock but then those hands were on his hips, pulling him forward and forcing his legs wide. Blaine groaned as his muscles moved and shifted the plug inside him. And then Blaine was straddling Dave's knees, and Dave's hand was back at his cock and their bodies were so close together.

Breathless, Blaine leaned in and slid his arms around Dave's neck, resting his chin on Dave's shoulder.

Dave's hand moved faster up and down Blaine's cock, careful not to run rough over the head.

Blaine moaned and started to bounce up and down just a little, ass clenching and squeezing the plug tight. As he bounced his cock moved through Dave's hand, slippery with precum and Dave squeezed the head tight accidentally, eliciting a whine from Blaine's mouth and an increase in the speed of his bouncing. So close. So painfully close.

"Fuck," Blaine muttered, fingers digging into Dave's shoulder blades as cum spurted onto Dave's hand. "Daaaave," he moaned, mind, briefly, going a complete and fabulous blank. Emptiness.

He gasped for air once or twice, and when he came back to his senses he was leaning like a ragdoll against Dave's sturdy frame.

Dave laughed tenderly, sitting with his slippery hand palm up in his lap.

Slowly, Blaine came down from the high, awareness coming back to him bit by bit. He felt Dave's clean hand cupping his thigh. He felt Dave's lips on his neck and his heart raced. Over and over, Dave pressed little kisses to Blaine's skin making him squirm.

_He's such a cuddler_, Blaine thought with the corners of his eyes wrinkled in joy. He let his fingers slide into Dave's hair, holding him against his neck, wanting more. Such a perfect blend of sweet and sour - hard and soft.

"You've still got a mark from Saturday night," Dave said softly.

Blaine remembered the hickey and realized that that was what Dave was kissing. "Sunday Morning," he corrected, voice soft and happy. Impossibly happy.

Dave laughed. "Whatever."


	3. Push Me Please

_This is a Klainofsky story (Kurt/Blaine/Karofsky), but it starts as a Blainofsky story. The first four chapters are exclusively Blainofsky and then a Klaine storyline begins to develop. __**This IS a love story**__, though at times it may not appear to be. Every chapter contains some form of sexual encounter. This story is NOT for readers with weak stomachs or impressionable minds._

_**Featured in this story:**__ BDSM, sub/Dom relationships, spanking, snuggling, stalking, dirty talk, sexual violence, crazy/stalker/slut/sub!Blaine, Dom!Dave, (eventually) teddy-bear!Dave._

**CHAPTER THREE – PUSH ME PLEASE****  
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Blaine nuzzled Dave's neck and hugged him. "I'm glad you came," he said after a moment.

And after another moment, Dave whispered, "Me too."

Blaine pulled away, hands slipping slowly off Dave's skin as he went, fingertips stealing those last few touches. Dave let him go, and didn't lift his head to look Blaine in the eye. He didn't see Blaine's smile. He didn't see Blaine's euphoric post-orgasm nurturing state kicking in.

Blaine reached for a box of tissues on the end table and grabbed two, cleaning his dick off and handing the other to Dave. While Blaine tucked his cock back into his pants and zipped them up, Dave wiped the cum off his hand.

Blaine stood and looked at himself in the mirror on the wall, and ran his fingers through his sex-rough hair without actually fixing it - without actually wanting to fix it. He straightened his shirt and tie and then glanced down at Dave who had just finished zipping his jeans back up.

"Come on, Babe," Blaine said, walking toward the hall. "Don't just sit there." He hummed Bad Romance to himself as he walked into the kitchen, mind on food now that his other bodily needs had been satisfied.

Dave didn't follow right away, so Blaine added, "It's time for diner." He'd followed Dave long enough to know that food was a good motivator.

He went back to the salad spinner and spun it twice more for good measure before taking the lettuce out and dumping it in a salad bowl. "Daaaave," he called in a sing-song voice. "I'm in the kitchen." He grabbed the knife again and started slicing a tomato.

Blaine heard, rather than saw, Dave walk into the kitchen doorway and stop. He glanced back to see the bigger boy standing there, leaning awkwardly against the doorframe, staring at his feet and looking like he felt completely out of place. It was beyond adorable.

"Salad?" Blaine asked, turning back to the cutting board.

Dave chewed his lip. "Not really a salad person."

Blaine licked tomato juice from his fingers thoughtfully. "No... I guess not," he said, glancing back at Dave for just a moment - taking in his broad muscled body, beautiful even covered in horridly loose-fitting clothes. He bit his lip.

Dave's eyes shot wide and then went to the floor so fast, Blaine almost laughed, but he held it back and just smirked instead. Dave's timidity - his lack of awareness of his own beauty - was endearing in the worst possible way. It made Blaine feel things he didn't normally feel - a desire to teach and protect on top of his usual desire to torment and provoke.

For a moment, Blaine watched Dave, and he felt wicked and joyful and triumphant and tender all at the same time. It was weird, but it was also intoxicating. He put the knife down and went to the fridge, opening it and bending over, putting his ass in the air and hoping vaguely that Dave couldn't see the plug through the seat of his pants. "Lets see..." He ran his eyes over the leftovers. "We've got apple pie... mashed potatoes... green beans... and baked ham."

"Sounds good," Dave said.

Blaine smiled, glad that his face was hidden from Dave's line of vision. He'd been suggesting options, not describing a four course meal. But of course, Dave ate different. He was built different. Blaine felt a thrill at the thought and started grabbing tupperwares out of the fridge. He could feel the blush on his cheeks as he got a plate for Dave.

_The best way to a man's heart_, Blaine thought to himself, and he piled much more food on the plate than he himself would ever eat in one sitting. He put the plate in the microwave, and set it to reheat.

While the plate rotated in the microwave, Blaine returned to the cutting board and started slicing a cucumber. He glanced back at Dave and then jerked his head toward the kitchen table. "Sit," he ordered gently.

Dave, eyes on the floor, obeyed quietly. For a while the only sounds in the kitchen were the hum of the microwave and the chop of Blaine's knife.

By the time the microwave dinged, Blaine was finished with the cucumber and working on an avocado. Dave started to get up, but Blaine glided around the table, putting a hand on Dave's shoulder to press him gently back down into his seat.

"You're my guest, remember?" Blaine asked, giving Dave a playfully accusatory look. He opened the microwave and pulled out the warm plate.

"Actually, I think intruder is a better word for it," Dave said, chewing his lip.

Blaine stuck a finger in the mashed potatoes to check that they were warmed through. "It's not breaking and entering if I leave the door open for you." He paused briefly, waiting for Dave to glance his way and then sucked the mashed potatoes off his finger.

Dave's cheeks colored and he looked down at the table.

Smirking, Blaine walked back to the table and put the plate in front of Dave. He paused before walking back to the cutting board and bent down behind Dave, sliding his arms around Dave's neck and whispering in his ear, "eat your veggies and you'll get dessert - and trust me, you don't want to miss out on this."

Dave swallowed. "What are you, my mom?"

Blaine smiled and pressed his lips to Dave's neck once, before whispering, "If I was your mom, I might have to spank you for not eating your veggies." Blaine kissed Dave's temple, his cheek, his jaw. _Good, God, he smells amazing_, Blaine thought. _Like laundry detergent and dirt and sweat. He smells like a little boy getting back from play_.

In one swift movement, Dave turned, slid a hand through Blaine's hair, and kissed him on the mouth. Blaine smiled into the kiss, chest swelling, and then he let his tongue out to tease Daves lips. Seconds slipped by as they kissed, and when Dave pulled back, Blaine looked him in the eye, soft and loving.

"What?" Dave asked, a blush creeping onto his face.

"That's the first time you've ever kissed me."

"What? No it's not - no we - when we were in my bed..." Dave cleared his throat. "Didn't we?"

"My mouth was full, remember?"

Dave's brow furrowed, trying to remember. "Honestly... it's kind of a blur."

"The only time we've kissed," Blaine said, leaning in close again, hoping for another kiss, "I kissed you and you pushed me into a car." As he said it, he thought vaguely that it might provoke some apology, followed by a nice apology make-out session. _Oh, God... making out with Dave_...

But Dave's expression darkened just when Blaine expected it to melt - just when Blaine was expecting sweet Dave he got hard Dave.

Blaine tried to read the change in Dave's expression, but Dave looked away and pushed back from the table.

"I should go," Dave said, standing and pulling out of Blaine's grasp.

"What?" Blaine felt his heart race. He was losing his grip on something important and he didn't know how it had happened. He'd so rarely failed to charm that he didn't know what to do. "You just got here." Blaine tried to grab at Dave's shoulders, push him back down, but Dave backed out of his reach. "I made you dinner."

"I know, and it's fucking weird."

Blaine frowned, stepping toward Dave, but Dave wouldn't look at him. "What just happened," Blaine asked. "You were happy a second ago. You kissed me a second ago."

Dave blushed, and Blaine reached out to touch his cheek, but Dave batted the hand away.

"I gotta go." Dave bit his lip and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Blaine watched in horrified astonishment. After an awkward second, Dave nodded and took a step toward the door. Heart racing, Blaine ran to the doorway, grabbing the sides of the frame and barricading it with his body. _Not without a fight_, he thought. "You have to go through me first," he said. _And maybe if we fight_, he thought, _maybe it'll get him going again_.

Dave glanced up at Blaine. He set his jaw, and looked down at the floor. "Cut it out, Blaine."

Blaine stared at Dave, feeling himself heat up, getting closer and closer to the right emotional temperature to do something crazy. Dave wasn't just going to leave. There was no way in hell Blaine was letting that happen.

Finally, Dave exhaled hard and lifted his head, staring hate into Blaine's face. He stalked toward Blaine, looking down at him, eyes dark.

"No," Blaine said, feeling his stomach turn, "I know what you're doing. It won't work on me. You're a coward, you know that?"

Dave paused for a moment and his eyebrows rose slightly before wrinkling back down. "Don't think," Dave said through gritted teeth, "that anything that's happened has changed how I feel about you."

Blaine's stomach felt like he'd just taken a major plunge on a roller-coaster. He panted, chest tight and then shook his head, resolved against Dave's attack. "I don't care if it has or hasn't. I don't care if you hate me, love me, whatever. All I want is your cock and I'm not letting you leave without getting what I want. That was just round one. I'm not finished with you."

If Dave heard or thought anything about what Blaine was saying, his face wasn't registering it. He was gone - nothing but hate was left in his eyes. God, he was good at that, but Blaine knew it was an act. Dave put a hand on Blaine's chest. Blaine's heart thrilled at the familiar touch. _Yes_, he thought, _push me_.

Blaine grinned, breathing hard through his nose. Dave pushed. Blaine stumbled backward, but caught himself, knuckles white as he held onto the door frame for dear life.

A strangled whine escaped Dave's throat.

Blaine steadied himself and stood back up, raising his chin. "You're not leaving until you fuck me," Blaine said, eyes hot. He clenched slightly around the plug. He had become so accustomed to it he barely felt it. "I didn't go to all the trouble of prepping myself AND making you food to get back your energy, just to have you go into a gay panic and leave."

Dave blushed at the word "prepping" and took a step back, face softening into slight fear.

"Aren't your parents coming home soon?" Dave asked, voice both angry and scared.

Blaine nodded. "So you're gonna have to get to the 'fucking me' part quick if you wanna do it loud and nasty."

There was a long pause. Each boy stared into the other with hate filled eyes. Blaine couldn't tell if he was winning or losing the argument, but he decided that the fact that Dave hadn't just thrown him out of the way and ran was a good sign.

Then slowly, Dave narrowed his eyes and sneered. "Do two things for me."

"Anything," Blaine said, breathless.

"Get me a fork-" Dave started and Blaine half grinned half blushed, realizing he'd forgotten that earlier. "-and stop acting like we're a couple." Dave huffed a little. "It's fucking weird."

Blaine smiled wider.

Dave grabbed Blaine's jaw. "THAT! Stop doing that."

"Smiling?"

"It's fucking weird."

Blaine bit his lower lip, wanting to smile even more than ever. "I smiled plenty while I was wooing you."

Dave shuttered. "And it was creepy as hell."

Blaine nodded, bowing his head to hide his smirk. After a moment he gathered himself and said, "okay, how should I act?"

Dave sighed and looked around the room. "I don't know. Pissy. Like Kurt."

And once again, Blaine felt like he'd just taken a steep drop on a roller-coaster - his stomach felt like it had fallen out. His mouth fell open and he stared at Dave. Dave smiled meanly, slapped Blaine's non-bruised cheek, then stalked back to the table.

Blaine felt sick. He knew that on some level Dave wanted Kurt. Fuck he'd even encourage the attraction if he got the chance, but he'd never imagined that Dave might've been thinking of Kurt when they were together. Now he was imagining it and it made him want to throw things at walls.

He didn't move from the door for a minute, just stood there, watching Dave sit back down, nose wrinkling in disgust. _I'm not second to anyone. Kurt could never give him the things I can_, he thought.

He thought about yelling. He thought about kicking Dave out.

"Fork," Dave ordered.

Blaine narrowed his eyes to slits. "Get your own damn fork." Blaine didn't see it but Dave smiled.

"Where are they?"

"It won't kill you to open some drawers to find out." Finally, face impossibly sour, Blaine walked back to the cutting board and picked up his faintly browning avocado.

_Kurt can't fuck like I can. Kurt can't let go and be an animal like I can. Kurt's pretty, and he's sweet, but he's not a monster_. Blaine's face burned with anger. He knew Kurt could never look Dave's fury in the face and WANT to have it all over him - inside of him - destroying him. _Kurt's a child, and I'm.._.

Blaine cut into the avocado, not looking up as Dave searched the drawers for the silverware. Presumably, Dave found a fork, because he walked back to the table and sat. Blaine heard the sound of the fork scraping on the plate and he wrinkled his nose. Blaine tossed the veggies in on top of his greens and then dropped the avocado chunks on top.

_Dave wants me to act like Kurt? How would Kurt act? Cold, aloof, delicate_. Blaine didn't feel delicate.

Dave sat and ate thoughtfully. The ham was good.

Blaine carried his salad to the table and dropped it loudly on the far end from Dave's, then he went and got himself dressing and a fork. "I knew you wanted to fuck Kurt," he said, finally, feeling like he was going to go blind with hate.

Dave laughed. LAUGHED.

Blaine smacked the back of Dave's head on his way back to the table, and it just made Dave laugh harder.

_Well, at least he's not leaving_, a part of Blaine said, and the other part of him, the bigger part, crushed that voice like a ladybug under it's shoe. _You want me to act like Kurt?_ Blaine thought. _Fine_.

Blaine sat in front of his salad bowl and drizzled dressing over it. They ate in silence. When Dave was finished, he went to the fridge.

Behind a scowl, Blaine watched him move. _What the fuck is he doing now?_ Blaine wondered.

Dave pulled the pie out of the fridge and got a knife out of the drawer. Blaine glared at him, watching him cut a slice and slide it onto his plate.

What would Kurt say? Something bitchy about Dave's food choices. Blaine was about to say something - opened his mouth to do it - and then he got a better idea. A bitchier idea.

Blaine licked the dressing from his lips, watching Dave walk back to the table, and a cruel smile spread across his lips.

"He's not very good you know," Blaine said, making his voice casual.

Dave sat, and picked up his fork from the table, licking a bit of mashed potatoes off the bottom side of it. "Who's not what?" He asked.

"Kurt's not very good," Blaine clarified, and then added, "in bed."

Dave dropped his fork onto the plate and turned finally to look Blaine in the eyes, face stony. Blaine smiled. He'd hit a nerve. Good.

"I mean, he's got the energy, but he doesn't have the experience. He can't suck cock like I can." He took a bite of his salad, eating it primly like Kurt would have.

Dave blinked, staring at Blaine. "You've fucked Kurt?"

Blaine laughed meanly and let his eyes wander away from Dave's face. "All the time. You know fags. Can't keep our hands off each other."

Dave swallowed, and looked down at the table. Blaine glanced back at him. He didn't look angry.

_Damn. It's not working_. "He does look pretty when he's screaming my name, though," Blaine said, staring at the wall and smiling. "And he's good and tight. Don't you just love fucking virgins? I should thank you really, for sending him running right into my gay, open arms. You should've seen the nasty things I did to him after you kissed him. He was so disgusted by you he needed someone good and clean and pretty to fuck it away."

Blaine could tell Dave's eyes were wide as he stared down at the table, but he STILL didn't look angry.

Blaine sighed happily and wanted to sigh angrily. "But you know me - insatiable. One guy's never enough."

"Are you done gloating?" Dave asked, voice quiet.

"I don't know," Blaine sighed, his disappointment seeping in this time. "Is it working?"

"I don't know, what am I supposed to be feeling?"

Blaine sighed, finally fully dissatisfied. For a while they were quiet. Blaine ate a few more bites.

"Did you really sleep with Kurt?" Dave asked finally. He hadn't touched his pie.

"No," Blaine said with a sigh. "I thought saying it would make you jealous. Obviously not."

"Actually..." Dave said, cheeks coloring before he'd even made his full confession. "It's kind of hot." He didn't look up from his pie, even for a second.

Blaine smiled brightly at the sudden unexpected change in the conversation. "Really?"

"Shut up," Dave mumbled.

"Okay."

Again they were quiet, and Blaine felt more than ever like gloating, but instead he ate.

"I don't want this anymore," Dave said, finally.

Blaine's heart leaped in his chest, but he ignored it and said, "fine, go. I'm not really feeling it either."

"I meant the pie."

"Oh."

"You want me to go?"

"No."

Another long horrible pause passed, and Blaine scowled out the window. He needed a way to turn things around - to get both of them back on so that the whole visit could end on the right note. _I will be damned if I went to all the trouble of getting stretched out and nothing happens_.

"So are you..." Blaine started to say, but he stopped.

"What?" Dave asked, looking up.

"I... nothing. Just..." Blaine sighed. "Bitchy, right?"

Dave blinked and then realized what Blaine was asking and blushed. "Yeah, I guess. I dunno."

Blaine nodded, standing from his chair and tugging at his shirt. He walked around behind Dave, licking his lips, and running through what he was going to do in his head.

He adjusted his tie, and then he bent down behind Dave again, sliding his arms around his neck again. "So, you like being treated like shit, huh?" He asked, lips close to Dave's ear.

Dave didn't answer, but Blaine heard his breath deepen just a little.

Blaine ran his lips along the side of Dave's neck, and then bit down hard, eliciting a yelp from Dave's lips. Blaine grabbed Dave's crotch and squeezed just a little too tight. Dave grunted, eyes closed.

After a moment, Blaine pulled his lips back just an inch and then he licked the bite mark delicately before biting again.

Dave groaned and muttered, "fuck."

Blaine squeezed his hand tighter, nuzzling the bite mark. Dave said nothing.

"Here's how this is going to go," Blaine explained, finally, letting go of Dave's buldge and instead of squeezing it he rubbed the palm of his hand over it. "I'm going to treat you like shit, and you're going to take it. Like the little bitch you really are."

Blaine could hear Dave's breath, could feel Dave's cock getting hard. He smiled meanly.

"You can do whatever you want to punish me - chase me, slap me, fuck me - but if you leave another bruise on my face or neck, I will chop off your dick with a pair of kitchen scissors. Okay?"

Dave nodded.

"Good." Blaine slapped Dave's crotch and started to pull away, but before he could, Dave grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. Blaine tumbled and slammed down onto the table, face down, sliding all the way into it until it his stomach hit the edge. He groaned loudly, disoriented by the slam, then Dave slapped his ass hard. Blaine cried out in pain and surprise - loud and echoing through the tiled kitchen.

"Fuck," Blaine muttered as the pain dulled. Then the euphoria started to set in - stupid and crazy. "Fuuuuck," he muttered again, laughing softly.

"Talk about spanking all day... you think I'm not gonna want to?" Dave asked, voice heavy.

Before Blaine could answer, Dave pulled him off the table and bent him over his knee. Dave slapped his ass twice more and Blaine cried out, partly from pain and partly from the pleasure of the plug moving under Dave's hand.

"What is that?" Dave asked.

Blaine's eyes flew open. _Can he feel the plug?_ Before he could say anything, Dave was undoing Blaine's fly and yanking his pants and briefs off. Blaine heard Dave gasp.

"What the fuck IS that?" Dave asked.

Blaine would have answered, but Dave started touching it, wiggling it, and all Blaine could do was moan.

"You little fucking whore. This has been here the whole time we've been talking?" Dave started to pull it out, getting it so the widest part popped out and then shoved it back in, making Blaine gasp. "You naughty little bitch!"

"Punish me," Blaine muttered, skin hot from embarrassment and arousal.

Dave slapped Blaine's bare ass three times, hard - each time Blaine cried out - and then Dave rubbed it gently. Blaine felt his hand move in a circle around the plug, never touching it.

"Fuck yourself with it," Dave ordered, hand sliding down to Blaine's thigh.

Blaine didn't even hesitate. He reached back and started sliding the toy in and out, feeling it stretch him every time the widest part slid over the threshold. Blaine whined.

Suddenly, Dave pushed Blaine up to his feet. Blaine almost toppled over but grabbed the table for support.

"Don't stop," Dave ordered before bending low, gabbing Blaine around the knees, and lifting him up, slinging him over his shoulder so that Blaine's bare butt was high in the air and his legs were restrained by the slacks now hanging around his knees. Blaine's dick, pressed against Dave's shoulder, hard and tight.

Blaine tried to grab on to some part of Dave but from that position there was nothing to steady him. Totally and completely out of his control. There was nothing he could do but hope and trust that Dave wouldn't drop him.

Suddenly, Dave's broad hand slapped Blaine's ass again. "I said, don't stop."

Blaine swallowed hard and reached up, gripping the base of the plug with his finger tips and fucking himself with it. He was painfully aware of the open windows - of the possibility of being seen by a neighbor.

Dave carried Blaine down the hall and up the stairs and as they took the stairs Blaine bounced just a little on Dave's shoulder and the pressure on his cock felt amazing. His eyes squeezed closed and he shoved the toy in and out of himself, trying to imagine what it must've looked like from Dave's perspective.

In the upstairs hall, Dave paused.

"Which one's yours?" He asked.

Blaine tried to orient himself, still sliding the toy in and out - obeying like a good little bitch - and he pointed his foot toward his bedroom door as soon as he could think straight enough to find it.

Dave walked into Blaine's room, closing and locking the door before throwing Blaine down onto his back on the bed. Dave looked around at the room, taking it in. Blaine adjusted on the bed, grunting and panting, completely out of sorts - lost in his own bedroom. Finally, he looked up and saw Dave taking off his t-shirt.

Blaine breathed slow, and reached up to loosen his tie while he kicked his pants off and onto the floor. He tossed his tie on the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt, watching Dave's eyes run over his body. Blaine licked his lips and slowly, slid his shirt off, teasing Dave with his pale skin.

The look Dave was giving him - hungry but not cannibalistic like before - he was in this strange and sweet place between his two sides and Blaine watched it, thinking to himself, _He's not thinking about anyone else but me. He's seeing me_.

"Turn around," Dave said.

Blaine slowly stood, running a hand down his side and then turned and climbed back on the bed on his hands and knees. Blaine reached back and teased the toy slowly out of his hole, then reached over and set it on the nightstand.

"I'm all done with that," he said in a boyish tone. "Ready for something bigger."

Blaine heard Dave unzip his fly, and he sighed happily at the sound.

"Condoms are in the nightstand," Blaine said, stretching lazily. He heard, but didn't see Dave open the drawer and unwrap a condom, then he slowly lifted his ass higher, glancing at the clock to see how much time they had left before they'd have to be quiet. _Plenty_, Blaine thought sliding a hand to his cock and stroking it slowly.

Blaine moaned as precum dribbled onto his hand. He spread it over his length with tender fingers, stroking over and over it.

Suddenly, Dave slapped Blaine's ass and Blaine cried out in shock, tensing before relaxing and laughing.

"I couldn't see any hand-prints anymore," Dave explained.

Blaine groaned softly. "Well that certainly won't do."

Dave spanked him again, twice, and Blaine cried out in pain each time until the pain dissolved into euphoria. "Daaaaave," Blaine groaned, squeezing drops of precum onto his hand.

For a moment Dave was silent, and Blaine wondered what he was doing. Then he felt Dave's breath on the left cheek of his ass and his whole body tensed.

"You gonna bitch at me for leaving a mark HERE?" Dave asked.

Blaine's heart raced and he swallowed hard. "No."

"Good." Dave bit down hard on the tender skin of his cheek, and Blaine squealed, back arching in pain.

"Fuck, Dave," Blaine muttered as Dave licked the bite mark and then sucked at it gently.

Dave bit again and again, and every time Blaine yelped in surprise and pain, and in between each bite Dave licked and kissed and sucked.

"Yess..." Blaine hissed. "Don't stop." He felt dizzy with pain and excitement at the prospect of seeing dark love-bites all over his ass every morning in the mirror. He thought about going to school and feeling the pain of them every time he sat. He thought about never being able to forget that Dave was there, and he groaned.

Blaine was dizzy, and his cock was painfully hard as he stroked it so slow, trying not to lose control. He didn't want to stop Dave but he couldn't wait much longer, and he was honestly shocked at Dave's ability to hold out for so long.

"Fuck me," Blaine whispered and Dave pulled back from his fourth hickey.

In an instant, Dave was on his feet, pressing the head of his cock at Blaine's asshole.

Blaine shivered and then muttered, "Fuck me!"

Dave didn't move.

"Goddammit, David, fuck me!" Blaine yelled, but still Dave didn't move. _What the hell is taking so long?_ Blaine wondered, remembering that first night they spent together and that long silent pause before Dave finally went for it.

Realizing that it might be a while before Dave actually pushed in, realizing that he couldn't wait another minute, and realizing that he didn't HAVE to wait another minute, Blaine stood up sandwiching his body between Dave's and the bed.

"Hey," Dave said in a soft voice.

Blaine didn't wait to explain. He turned and grabbed Dave by the arm and pulled him forward, spinning him around and pushing him back onto the bed. Dave was so surprised by the attack that he didn't offer any resistance. He just fell, gasping, onto his back.

The look of surprise on Dave's face was priceless. Blaine grinned, and jumped on top of him, straddling him. Eyes closed, he grabbed Dave's cock and guided it to his hole, pushing down and taking him in. A heavy groaning grunt escaped Blaine's mouth as he pushed down to Dave's base.

"Shit," Dave muttered.

Blaine let go. He put his hands on Dave's chest to steady himself and started to ride up and down. He bounced hard, for a moment, letting his dick slap on Dave's stomach with every drop, then he paused, stretching and breathing.

"Scoot back," he ordered, and Dave, one hand on Blaine's hip, slid backward, farther onto the bed.

Blaine leaned back, putting his hands on the edge of the bed. He felt the pressure against his prostate and groaned before slowly starting to bounce again. His eyes rolled back in his head as he went, and he felt himself getting closer and closer - so fast, too fast.

But he couldn't stop. It felt too good. He felt the moans and wails bubbling up in his throat and he couldn't keep them down - didn't want to keep them down - didn't give a flying fuck how shamelessly indecent he sounded. "Oh, God, that feels fucking amazing," he blurted, riding harder, and then Dave's hand was around Blaine's dick, squeezing and stroking.

"Fuck!" Blaine muttered, feeling the ridge of Dave's head slide over that sweet spot one more time and he came, cum spurting up onto Dave's chest. "Fuck that was fast." His words came out like a groan. How did he get me over the edge so fucking fast?

Blaine dropped one last time, still leaning back, head hanging so he was looking up at the ceiling, and feeling blissful nothingness.

"Dave," he murmured, that smile sneaking back onto his face.

Dave sat up and slid his arms around Blaine's back, slick fingers spreading cum across Blaine's skin.

Blaine leaned forward, putting his forehead on Dave's shoulder and relishing how tender Dave was during and after sex. He felt Dave shifting - felt Dave about to move - and he clinged a little tighter. Dave lifted him up just a little and rolled over, putting Blaine on his back before pulling out and standing, slipping out of Blaine's grasp.

Blaine whined, loud and bratty. "No leaving."

Dave smiled as he pulled off the condom and looked around for a box of tissues. "I don't want to hurt you," he said softy, finally just tossing the condom in the trash without wrapping it up first.

"You could hurt me," Blaine said with a smile, eyeing Dave lazily. "I'd probably be okay with it."

Dave laughed. "Don't feel like it," he said with a shrug.

Blaine sat up and reached out a hand toward Dave, making a grabby motion. "Let me get you then," he murmured. "Return the favor from earlier."

Dave's face broke into a wide grin and he stepped forward without another word. Blaine's hand closed on Dave's cock, stroking it slowly. Dave's lips found Blaine's for only the second time ever, and his hands found Blaine's hips as he gently pushed Blaine backward across the bed, making room for himself to sit.

They sat face to face - cross-legged - and Blaine stroked Dave's cock with a slow and teasing hand, moaning softly into the kiss.

Blaine had never found hand jobs to be all that thrilling, but the look on Dave's face, the way Dave kissed him made him feel like maybe there was something really awesome about receiving a hand job - like maybe he was missing it. There was something about the way Dave kissed him...

Dave's tongue ran tenderly over Blaine's lips without dipping more than the tip inside. Blaine kept letting his own tongue sneak further into Dave's mouth. Dave didn't stop him, but his half of the kiss was chaste and delicate, though his moans of pleasure hinted at a lust he was restraining. _Gaaaaaaawd __he can kiss_... Blaine thought, even as he cursed Dave's restraint - his teasing.

He broke the kiss to lick Dave's lips then his jaw. With a wicked grin, and with his eyes staring into Dave's, Blaine ran his tongue from Dave's chin to his nose and he squeezed hard at Dave's cock as he stroked it.

Dave gasped. They were face to face, staring, and there it was, that dark and open thing in Dave's eyes.

There was something like terror in that look, but it wasn't bad.

Blaine blinked, but didn't look away and neither did Dave.

_Gaaaaaaawd_, Blaine thought, chills running up his spine, stupid grin still plastered on his face. He wanted to say something filthy, wanted to make Dave beg, but he refrained. _Not today. Not yet_.

Suddenly, spurred on by a gasp from Dave's lips, Blaine's hand picked up speed. He jerked Dave's cock in quick long strokes. Dave panted and closed his eyes against the ecstasy. Without realizing it, Blaine matched his breath to Dave's, and even moved a little with the rhythm of his hand.

"Blaine," Dave whispered in a hoarse voice. "Fuck, Blaine."

Blaine leaned in toward Dave's ear, possessed suddenly with an uncontrollable desire. "That's right. Blaine," Blaine whispered. "Not Kurt. Not anybody else." Blaine's breath hitched just a little, and he bit delicately at Dave's ear.

"Not anybody else," Dave murmured back. "Blaine."

Blaine's hand pumped faster, going in for the kill. He felt his arm starting to cramp but he was too determined to stop. "Come for me," he whispered, voice hot and angry. "Fucking come for me."

"Fuck," Dave cried out, shuddering violently and twitching under Blaine's hand as cum shot up between them. His breath stopped for a moment, and when, after a pause, he exhaled again, Blaine's name escaped, wrapped in the grunt so that Blaine almost didn't hear it - wasn't really sure what he'd heard.

Blaine slowed his hand, still stroking up and down very slowly, too in love with the feeling of Dave's hard cock against his palm to let go.

Dave inhaled several times, hard, and leaned forward, putting his forehead on Blaine's shoulder. "Blaine," he whispered, and he sounded sad.

Slowly, Blaine let go of Dave's cock, afraid that if he kept teasing he'd hurt him.

Then Dave whispered it again, "Blaine," and it was the most beautiful sound Blaine had ever heard - so impossibly happy. Dave started to laugh, just a little. "Goddammit, Blaine," he muttered.

Blaine laughed softly too, though he wasn't sure at what. "Wha'd I do?"

Dave looked up at him, cheeks pink, teeth clamped gently on his lower lip, and then lowered his eyes, shaking his head.

"What?" Blaine asked, grinning and hoping that he'd get to spend the rest of forever seeing Dave look just like that. Blaine poked Dave's stomach. "Tell me."

Dave reached out and pulled Blaine closer, sliding Blaine up onto his lap, just like he'd done when they were in the living room. He rested his cheek on Blaine's shoulder and nuzzled into his neck, then whispered, "No questions, okay? Just... just, thank you."

Blaine's chest tightened at the way Dave's nose pressed against his neck, tightened at the feeling of Dave's breath on his skin as he spoke.

"I'd ask for what, but it sounds like I'm not allowed to," Blaine whispered back.

Dave nodded.

"So then... I guess... you're welcome." Blaine bit his lower lip. "For whatever."

Dave's fingers moved gently, aimlessly over the skin at Blaine's hip, making Blaine shiver.

"Yeah," Blaine whispered. "For whatever I did right, you're definitely welcome." And, blissful, he listened to Dave's gentle laugh.


	4. I See You

_This is a Klainofsky story (Kurt/Blaine/Karofsky), but it starts as a Blainofsky story. The first four chapters are exclusively Blainofsky and then a Klaine storyline begins to develop. __**This IS a love story**__, though at times it may not appear to be. Every chapter contains some form of sexual encounter. This story is NOT for readers with weak stomachs or impressionable minds._

_**Featured in this story:**__ BDSM, sub/Dom relationships, spanking, snuggling, stalking, dirty talk, sexual violence, crazy/stalker/slut/sub!Blaine, Dom!Dave, (eventually) teddy-bear!Dave._

**CHAPTER FOUR – I SEE YOU**

The hum of the treadmill mingled with the patter of rain and punctuated by the rhythmic thumps of his feet on the belt was enough to lull Dave into a kind of trance. Of course, the sound was aided by the endorphins pumping through his body as he ran.

Before Blaine came around this was the only thing that really helped him relax. Exercise and food. Lots of exercise. Lots of food. It made him feel better and it made him get bigger – stronger. Tough enough to knock down anybody who got in his way.

So on a no Blaine night – and so far this looked to be one – the treadmill was where he found himself.

He thought about texting Blaine but he didn't want to seem needy. They'd been together the previous night and he could wait a night before he had to text. He wasn't hard up anymore – Blaine texted all the time – and he _could_ wait. Besides he liked it so much when Blaine texted first – liked knowing Blaine wanted him – knowing anybody wanted him, but especially Blaine.

As far as Dave could tell, besides being completely insane, Blaine was absolute perfection – the exact image of what a guy was supposed to be – beautiful and strong and confident. And all of the weird personality stuff – all of the ways in which Blaine was not normal – didn't really bother Dave. It was actually kind of exciting to be so close to someone so different. As long as Dave was bigger and tougher he didn't care how insane Blaine got because any new destructive quirk that reared its head just built a new desire to tame and conquer.

He ran and he loved the heat in his muscles, the feeling of blood pumping, the way his lungs opened deeper to take in enough oxygen. He closed his eyes and breathed and a smile spread across his lips. With every step he got stronger and faster.

A buzz brought him back from his reverie – a buzz from the middle of the family room, from his cell phone sitting face down on the coffee table. _Blaine_, he thought, steps faltering for just a moment as his eyes ran to the phone. _No_, he thought, _just a half mile more, then you can see what it is. It might not even be Blaine_. He picked up the pace again and licked sweat from his upper lip. He didn't know but he hoped it was Blaine. _Just half a mile more_.

He closed his eyes again and smiled and he ran.

A minute passed and then the phone buzzed again. He laughed out loud, eyeing the phone with delight, as though he was eyeing Blaine himself. He pictured Blaine on the floor – kneeling, begging for it. He loved how bad Blaine needed it. _Just a few more minutes_.

Again he closed his eyes, but the phone buzzed again and again, and only Blaine sent texts like that, in an unanswered string. And when he did, they were usually filthy.

Finally – half mile forgotten – Dave slowed the treadmill so he could cool down a little before getting off. He rubbed beads of sweat from his forehead and breathed slow. He pressed his fingers to the side of his neck, just below his jaw, checking and waiting for his pulse to slow down enough for him to get off.

The phone buzzed again and he laughed – _Damn, he wants it_ – killing the treadmill and walking lazily over to the sofa. He dropped into a seat and grabbed the phone, reading the first of the several texts, all of which were, in fact, from Blaine.

"I see you." Read the first.

Dave's eyes widened as he skimmed the rest of the texts and then looked around. The room was empty. The world outside the windows was dark and revealed nothing. His eyes paused on the window in front of him, and he stared. _He's gotta be out there. How else would he...?_ Dave's eyes flicked back down to the rest of the texts – the proof that Blaine was watching.

"I see the sweat running down your back.

"I see your calves flexing.

"I see you not answering your phone. Bad boy.

"If you don't answer soon I might have to come in and interrupt you.

"I might have to lick that bead of sweat off your neck. I might have to bite."

Dave's chest constricted, and he tried to breathe like a normal person – tried to think like a normal person – but FUCK Blaine was crazy, and FUCK Blaine was good. Good at getting Dave to panic and revel at the same time. Good at being everything that wasn't supposed to exist in normal society. Dave typed a hasty message without giving it much thought, "What are you doing?" and thumbed the send button.

In agony, Dave waited for a reply. He didn't even care if the reply had anything to do with the question – he just needed more – needed to know where this rabbit hole went. When Blaine did finally answer, all he sent back was, "Take off your shirt."

Dave coughed and looked around again – embarrassed and excited at the same time. His eyes stopped at the window, trying to see through the glare from the lights. His brain leapt at the idea of the situation reversed – watching Blaine undress behind a pane of glass. His pulse picked up and he looked away from the window, biting his lip. The phone buzzed again in Dave's hand and he looked down at it.

"I said, take off your shirt."

Slowly, Dave stood. He'd never, until that very moment, considered the possibility of being a stripper or anything of the sort – eye-candy. The new thought was intoxicating. _Watch me_. He pulled at the hem of his t-shirt and bit his lip, pausing like that, eyes on the floor – not because he thought it looked sexy (he was not familiar with feigned timidity as a trick in a stripper's arsenal) but because he was genuinely nervous. In fact, his stomach was churning – not enough to make him actually think he might puke, but enough to bring the idea of the possibility into his head. He closed his eyes and pulled the shirt up over his head, telling himself no one was watching to make it easier. Then, all that was left was a pair of baggy old sweat pants and Dave's broad and bare chest. He dropped the shirt onto the coffee table and picked the phone back up, waiting.

After a moment, another message came, "Getting hard yet?"

Dave felt heat rush to his face. He wasn't hard. He'd felt early stirrings, but he was more nervous than anything else. He didn't know how to answer it so he just stared at the phone, trying to think through a head full of cotton.

Another buzz brought, "Touch yourself."

At that Dave glared out the window for a split second before lowering his eyes and texting back, "No dude. My parents are home." He hit send and went back to glaring. It was one of those lines – one of those over the top quirks that needed to be tamed. _He's just too damn forward_. But even while he was angry at Blaine for the suggestion, he felt his cock stiffening at the thought. The answer came back immediately.

"They're upstairs. You'll hear them coming."

Dave read and groaned. He sat back down on the sofa, covering his face in his hands, and tried to will his cock to stay down, but it was throbbing just at that thought – jerking off for Blaine's viewing pleasure, and he didn't have to look down to know his sweat pants weren't ideal boner-cover. Blaine would never give up once he saw it. Dave knew what the sight of his cock did to Blaine. He wanted to laugh and yell in fury at the same time. He wanted to be pissed at Blaine – was pissed at Blaine – but his heartstrings tugged at Blaine's quirky perversions.

Dave rubbed his eyes, trying to piece together his thoughts – trying to make some decision about what he was going to do but it was all too jumbled to make sense. The phone buzzed and he lifted it to read. "Do it now or I'll come in and do it myself."

Sighing, Dave sat back. It was clear in the space of an instant – instinct took over – he wanted to do it. He put a hand over his bulge, rubbing gently and closing his eyes. The thought of Blaine watching – watching and maybe doing the same thing out in the dark – crept into Dave's head and he groaned softly, biting back a second groan for fear he'd be heard upstairs. He expected Blaine's next text to insist he whip it out and start jerking off and, although the thought of being caught terrified him, he was starting to really want to do it – for Blaine.

But all the next text said was, "Regret giving me your number yet?"

Dave laughed despite himself and stopped rubbing to text back, "Just a little." His breath came short and he bit his lip.

"Just a little?"

"A very little."

Dave couldn't stop himself from grinning. "What now?" he typed, "No more orders?" He hoped there would be more orders.

There was a pause and Dave's cock throbbed deliciously but he didn't want to give Blaine anything he didn't ask for.

"Come find me."

Dave's eyes widened and he looked out the window with a huge smile before jumping off the couch and running to the hall. This was better. This was better than playing at a distance. This meant smelling, touching, tasting Blaine. Seeing Blaine. He grabbed a zip up hoodie from the hall closet, put it on in a rush, dropped his phone in the pocket, and then slipped out the back door as quietly as he could.

Drops of rain hit Dave's face and cooled his skin – still hot from the run – but it wasn't raining hard, just a soft sprinkle.

Submerged in darkness he could see a little better, but Blaine was nowhere. "Blaine," he hissed, walking around looking up at the branches of trees, trying to think where he would hide for peeping purposes and feeling a little proud of himself for being clueless on that front. "Blaine, where are you?"

He heard the side gate creak and hurried around to the side yard just in time to see it close gently against the post. He opened the gate and slipped out to the front yard, catching a glimpse of Blaine walking away, carrying an open umbrella, dressed in a black raincoat. Dave turned back to close and latch the gate with careful fingers before following Blaine down onto the sidewalk at a distance of several yards.

Blaine picked up his pace, walking down the wet concrete in red galoshes that made him look like a little kid.

Dave hurried to catch up. "Wait up," he hissed, but Blaine just moved faster, glancing back with an open-mouth smirk. "Dammit Blaine," Dave muttered, breaking into a jog.

As soon as Dave started jogging, Blaine broke into a run, putting a surprising gap between them in the space of a few seconds. _He can run!_ Dave ran after him – hair wet with rain so that it was dripping down his face. He tried to keep pace and gave up on catching him.

They rounded a corner and came out onto a main road and Dave watched Blaine run through pools of light cast by streetlamps, watched his feet come down in puddles and send up huge splashes of water, soaking the legs of his jeans. Then, Blaine – so far ahead – turned and Dave's heart leapt. He was entering a dog-walking trail through a grove of trees – a winding, unpaved path, muddied by the rain. On better days, Dave liked to run this path and he knew exactly how secluded it was – exactly how easy it was to get lost in those trees.

And then Blaine was gone, hidden in the brush and the darkness, and transformed into nothing but the sound of dull footsteps on the trail. And then even that was gone.

Dave ran down the trail just a little while and then slowed to a walk, breathing hard and looking around, but he could see very little in the faint moonlight trickling through the treetops.

He stopped and swallowed and cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight – as though he could have prepared for Blaine's upcoming craziness.

"Blaine?" he called out, but not loud enough to be heard by anyone outside the grove.

No answer came. Slowly, Dave started to walk forward, wondering if Blaine had the good sense to stay on the trail. After a moment, Dave heard a twig snap behind him and turned just in time to catch a sliver of Blaine's backside disappearing behind a tree. He bolted in that direction and ran behind the tree, but Blaine was veiled by darkness, wherever he'd gotten to. Dave walked all the way around the tree breathing hard and thinking, _where would I hide?_ He saw something move in his peripherals and bolted toward it before his eyes fully registered whether or not it was Blaine – and, of course, it was. Blaine dodged around another tree but Dave was right on him, grabbing him by the collar of his raincoat and yanking. Blaine stumbled back into Dave's broad frame.

Thoughtless, Dave's arm curled around Blaine's wet coat and one hand slid inside to grab at Blaine's crotch as they stood, breathless, chest to back. He needed to know how hard Blaine was, how much Blaine loved teasing him. Blaine groaned and leaned back against Dave.

"What are you running from?" Dave asked, squeezing and rubbing Blaine's erection through his jeans.

"Big bad wolf," Blaine whispered, shrugging his shoulders to loosen the coat's fit.

Dave licked Blaine's neck, which was still mostly dry, thanks to the umbrella. He rubbed his wet face against the dry skin and grinned as Blaine shivered. But the umbrella was mysteriously absent. Had Dave been any older and any less focused on what his cock had to say about things, he might've noticed that. But he wasn't and he didn't.

Blaine's arm swung suddenly upward and Dave didn't have any time to realize what was happening. The collapsed umbrella connected sharply with the side of Dave's head and he cried out, "fuck!" The impact dazed him and gave Blaine just enough time to drop the umbrella and slip out of the coat, bolting off down the path, deeper into the grove. "Bitch!" Dave yelled, dropping the coat onto a bush and chasing after him, head ringing.

He was already out of sight and Dave was too busy cursing Blaine's speed and trying to see straight to notice the footsteps stop. He narrowly dodged a bench on his way, spotting it just in time and lunging to the side to avoid hitting it without slowing his pace.

Suddenly, Blaine stepped out right in front of him from behind a tree crying, "Boo!" with a grin.

Startled and trying not to crash into Blaine, Dave stopped in his tracks teetering, eyes squeezed shut in anger. "Dammit Blaine!" he said through clenched teeth, opening his eyes to glare at Blaine's glee.

Blaine laughed and darted away but Dave was right on his heels, and he was pissed the hell off. Blaine's foot caught on a rock and he stumbled just a little, slowing him enough for Dave to catch his elbow and yank him back again. Dave grabbed both of Blaine's wrists, twisting them behind his back like he was a cop apprehending a criminal, and paused to breathe. Blaine kept laughing and, infuriated, Dave walked him forward and pushed him up against a tree.

"Don't do that again. Don't hit me," Dave growled in Blaine's ear. "And stop running away." His cock was hard and throbbing painfully now that he had Blaine in his grasp.

"Why?" Blaine asked like a little kid screwing with a teacher.

"Because it's a pain in the ass."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah." Blaine laughed and thrust his hips backward so his ass pressed against Dave's hard-on. He grinded. "You're not enjoying this at all, are you?"

Dave groaned, body relaxing just a little though he kept his hands tight on Blaine's wrists.

"This isn't even a little bit fun," Blaine whispered.

Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth Dave slammed himself against Blaine and forced him harder into the tough bark of the tree. He found himself smiling at the sudden grunt that escaped Blaine as the air was forced from his lungs. "Getting clocked in the head with an umbrella isn't fun."

Blaine laughed as much as he could with so little room to breathe. Defiant to the end. Dave pushed him harder against the trunk. Blaine grunted and then muttered, "Just consider it payback for the punch."

For a moment, Dave just breathed, deciding to accept that as fair, as he continued to get his bearings back. "Fine," he muttered, "but no more hitting."

Blaine breathed hard and then nodded. "Okay. No more hitting. What about slapping?"

Dave thought about that for a moment, licking his lips and thinking about how much he enjoyed slapping Blaine's ass. "Slapping is fine. No hitting with a closed fist. No hitting with a blunt object."

"Okay. No more hitting."

Dave pushed his hips just a little bit farther forward, making Blaine whine.

"I promise," Blaine muttered.

Dave relaxed the pressure on Blaine's body, but didn't pull away, and didn't let go of his wrists. Drops fell from the branches above onto Dave's already wet face. One of Blaine's hands, freed just a little after the release, started to stroke Dave's stomach through the hoodie. Dave bit his lip. Blaine's fingers teased downward and he tugged against Dave's hold just a little – just enough to let Dave know what he wanted.

"Let me?" Blaine asked.

Slowly, Dave pulled Blaine's wrists down, letting Blaine's palm slide down his stomach to the waistband of his pants. Blaine's sneaky fingers slipped under the elastic and Dave lowered them further until Blaine's hand was cupping his cock through his briefs and rubbing gently over it. Dave let out a shuddering gasp – relieved to finally receive some attention. Blaine struggled against his hold, just a little, to sneak his hand inside the cloth and grab Dave's erection – skin on skin. He stroked slowly up and down it with a tight fist and Dave moaned, relaxing his hold to give Blaine a better range of motion.

"Fuck, Blaine," Dave muttered as Blaine started to pump faster, bringing Dave closer to the edge. Dave released one hand from the hold he had on Blaine and slid it around, mindlessly fantasizing about returning the favor.

In an instant, Blaine was free. The waistband of Dave's briefs snapped against his stomach as Blaine's hand slid out and he leapt out to the side laughing. Dave's arm swept out at him, trying to pull him back but Blaine danced out of his reach.

"What the FUCK, dude? Not cool!" Dave whined, taking a few steps toward Blaine though his now painful erection would make running impossible. But Blaine didn't run. He stayed at a distance – not close enough to reach but not far enough to disappear in the thick trees.

"I promised not to hit. I didn't promise not to sneak away," Blaine said with a smart-ass grin.

"Well, then I want that too." Dave took a step toward him and Blaine took a step back. Every time Dave tried to get just a little bit closer he'd move back or to the side, but he didn't run. That meant he was ready to be caught for real but he wasn't going to give up without a fight.

"No more sneaking?" Blaine shook his head and pouted. "Now where's the fun in that?" He laughed.

"The fun in that, is me fucking you." After everything that had happened that night, Dave was tired and wasn't sure he could give Blaine the big finish he seemed to be hoping for.

"Yeah, but I get that either way. I have to sneak. It's in my blood."

Dave breathed and thought quietly, finally saying, "and if I don't like it, I shouldn't be fooling around with a sneaky fuck like you?" Dave leered, one eye tighter than the other.

"Something like that." Blaine smirked.

Dave lunged at Blaine, and Blaine danced backward laughing. Dave took a step forward and Blaine took a step back, grinning that open-mouth grin. Rain dripped down Blaine's face making it glitter in the faint light of the moon. _Gorgeous_. There was no way for Dave to cool down enough to make this work – enough to catch the sneaky bastard.

"I could just leave, you know?" Dave asked. "I could just walk away and leave you hot and bothered in the rain."

"You wouldn't. You'd be leaving yourself just the same."

Dave looked down, gathering up the right emotion in his stomach so he could put it convincingly on his face. He looked up, smirking. "Maybe I'd get off on denying you."

Blaine expression flickered, and Dave's smirk turned into a grin.

"Not so badass, now, are you?" Dave rolled his shoulders, looked down at the mud and then glanced sideways at the trees around him, looking over the whole area, thinking it over, and keeping that smug expression on his face. He turned sharply and walked back up the path like he was heading home.

"Dave!" Blaine called out. "Come on. Don't be an ass. Get back here."

Dave kept walking, shaking his head and smiling. He turned his head and called back, "Fuck you, Anderson." He heard Blaine's footsteps, running up behind, and breathed slow, waiting for them to get closer.

"Don't do this, Dave. Please. I—"

He felt Blaine's hand on his back and turned grabbing Blaine's arm, forcing him backward and making him stumble. He pushed Blaine into a tree until they stood face-to-face, chest-to-chest. Blaine gasped and stared into Dave's face in shock.

Dave smirked. "You think you're the only one here who knows how to fuck with someone's head?" Dave pressed his hips up against Blaine's, grinning and grinding.

Blaine moaned, but didn't laugh – smugness robbed by the threat of losing Dave's interest. "Fuck me," he whispered, staring up into Dave's eyes so the faint distant light of the moon glinted off his dark pupils.

"I intend to," Dave whispered back. He kissed Blaine hard, on the mouth, licking the drops of rain from Blaine's lips.

Blaine groaned, tilting his head to the side and rubbing his wet nose across Dave's cheekbone. Dave slid his knee between Blaine's legs, forcing them apart and Blaine dropped down immediately, pressing against Dave's thigh and grinding. His free arm slid around Dave's neck, supporting himself as he started to thrust forward again and again wantonly.

They kissed, and Dave moaned as rain pattered against their faces and drops ran down from their drenched hair. Dave tasted the sweet chemical flavor of Blaine's hair gel and wrinkled his nose but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. It tasted a bit like it smelled, and that smell was so much a part of Blaine that he couldn't imagine one without the other.

Dave pulled away, making Blaine whine at the loss of contact and then dragged Blaine from the tree. He got Blaine in front of him, arm pinned to his back, and pushed him forward down the path. It was the way _they_ walked together, Dave in charge.

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked.

"You'll see."

They walked until they were a yard away from that bench Dave had dodged during their chase, and then Dave stopped and ran a hand down to Blaine's fly, unzipping it and listening to the way that made Blaine groan. "You ready for this, Princess?" Dave asked, pressing his hips against Blaine's ass, letting him feel his hard-on.

"Always," Blaine murmured.

Dave slid a flat palm down Blaine's hip, inside his jeans, just feeling the wet skin for a moment before turning his hand and yanking at the denim. It barely budged. He only got the waist down a few inches; the fabric was stuck to Blaine's body by the rain. Dave grumbled and tried to peel the fabric away, clumsy with the use of only one hand. He needed both, but he didn't trust Blaine not to run away again – wouldn't trust him until his pants were around his knees, restraining him from running, and might not trust him even then.

So, he walked Blaine further forward, and pinned the fronts of Blaine's knees against the bench. Dave planted his feet outside Blaine's, and then, convinced that Blaine was blocked well enough from escape, Dave released Blaine's wrist and slid both hands to the waist of Blaine's jeans.

He tried to tug the jeans down but still they wouldn't go so he forced Blaine to turn and face him, thinking of getting a better grip by making him lean back against the bench.

"Why'd you wear such tight pants in the fucking rain?" Dave muttered and then bit his lip, eyes down on Blaine's hips, nearly impossible to see beyond rough outlines through the darkness and the blur from his rain saturated eyelashes.

"Because I figured it'd give me enough time to do something like this," Blaine said, yanking down the zipper on Dave's hoodie and pushing it open, exposing Dave's chest to the rain.

Dave's eyes jumped up to Blaine's and he saw that old familiar smirk. The cold air hit him and made him shiver.

"Always gotta have your way, don't you?" Dave asked, breathing and watching as Blaine leaned in.

"Yep," Blaine whispered before kissing Dave's lips.

Dave's eyes closed and his grip on Blaine's hips tightened. Blaine's hands roamed over Dave's stomach, sides, ribs, chest, and then rested at his nipples, thumbing them gently. Dave gasped at the contact and suddenly needed to do the same to Blaine. His hands ran up to Blaine's button up shirt, undoing the buttons and pushing him backward at the same time.

Blaine toppled down onto the bench and gasped, recoiling from the metal, and muttering, "cold."

"I didn't pick the location," Dave murmured, pulling Blaine's shirt wide open and pawing at Blaine's perfect chest. He knelt on the bench, legs splayed around Blaine's body.

Blaine straightened up, trapped between Dave and the bench. He ran his hands up Dave's thighs and he kissed Dave's chest. Dave's cock twitched. Then Blaine's tongue ran over his nipple and Dave's eyes closed involuntarily. Blaine's hand found Dave's cock – still covered in the thick, damp cloth of his sweat pants – and rubbed gently. It felt so good to finally have contact there but it reminded Dave of the previous escape attempt so he batted Blaine's hand away.

Blaine just kept kissing and licking at Dave's chest, unruffled by the denial.

"Pants off," Dave ordered, "or down anyway."

Blaine complied immediately, lifting off the seat and supporting himself with one elbow on the bench-back. He peeled those tight jeans down to his knees, revealing those beautiful, toned thighs, glittering as raindrops hit them, and then went back to lapping at the fine layer of hair covering Dave's chest. "Love the taste of your sweat," Blaine murmured, freeing his cock from his briefs and stroking himself gently. "Thanks for putting on the hoodie – saving it from the rain for me."

Dave laughed but didn't correct Blaine. He stood from the bench to give Blaine room to move and said, "stand up, turn around."

"Wait," Blaine murmured, looking down and smirking. For a moment, Dave thought Blaine might try to escape again so he tensed and waited for it, but Blaine just reached down into the pocket of his crumpled jeans and pulled out a condom. Dave nodded but didn't relax. Anything could be a trick.

Blaine reached up and pulled Dave's sweat pants and briefs down just enough for them to slip below Dave's ass and free his cock. Cold drops of rain hit Dave's newly exposed skin and made him shiver. He closed one big hand around his dick, covering the head and part of the shaft, stroking it and keeping it warm. _So close_... Blaine unwrapped the condom and put it in his mouth. Dave's eyes flew wide.

Blaine slid, slouching, further down the bench between Dave's legs, lowering his lips to cock level, but Dave's mind tore between excitement and anxiety as Blaine inched closer to an escape.

Blaine grabbed Dave's cock at the base, and nudged Dave's hand off the head. Dave grabbed Blaine's hair, and Blaine looked up into Dave, eyes glinting as he slowly moved forward, mouth open. His lips enveloped the head of Dave's cock, sheathing it in latex. Dave's fingers tightened in Blaine's hair.

Closing his eyes, Blaine bobbed and pushed the condom further down each time – humming and sending vibrations through Dave's flesh.

Dave's eyes lost the ability to focus as he felt himself slide into Blaine's humming throat and he squeezed at the tufts of Blaine's hair tangled between his fingers. "Oh, God," he muttered.

Blaine bobbed for just a moment more, letting the head of Dave's cock pop in and out of his throat and then pulled back.

Dave's eyes refocused on Blaine's face – his spit-wet lips, his rain-wet cheeks, his glassy eyes. For a moment he just stared.

"This bench is so cold," Blaine said with a smirk. "Maybe we could find something warmer to press against my ass?"

A grin spread across Dave's face and he nodded. He tugged gently at Blaine's hair, guiding him up to his feet and then put his hands on Blaine's shoulders, turning him around to face the bench. He didn't have to guide Blaine down into a good position – Blaine moved on his own, kneeling on the seat and leaning forward with his elbows on the bench-back.

One hand on his cock, one hand on Blaine's ass, Dave spread Blaine, looking at the way the moonlight glinted off the wet curves of Blaine's body. In the dark it was hard to see the hidden contours of Blaine's ass so he had to find Blaine's hole by touch. He guided his cock down the cleft of Blaine's ass, pushing gently until the head found the soft pucker that gave way just a little under him.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Dave asked. He cared more and more about taking care of Blaine – less and less about just getting off.

Blaine pushed roughly back in answer, like he was trying to force Dave inside, but Dave's cock popped up and just slid up along Blaine's crack, teasing them both wretchedly. Blaine groaned and then muttered, "just shut up and fuck me already."

Dave nodded – no need to hear it twice. He lined himself up again and then, with one guiding hand at the base, he pushed inside – slow, gauging how well stretched Blaine was. He felt strangely accomplished knowing that he was starting to recognize the way Blaine's body felt, starting to know when Blaine was tight and when he was lose. And, as it turned out, Blaine hadn't lied. He _was_ ready. In fact, Dave slid in so easily he thought that – had there been anymore light – he would've gotten to see Blaine gape the way he usually did after they were done. The thought was fleeting though, because suddenly all he could think about was the tight heat of Blaine's body, so sharply contrasted with the cold wet, because, even loose, Blaine felt amazingly tight.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," Blaine moaned. "Yessss. I've been needing this all day."

Dave rocked forward and back again and again, going deeper each time, preparing himself mentally to hold back – to keep from coming immediately when they really started to fuck.

"I kept going to the bathroom during class," Blaine whispered, "and fingering myself, thinking about your cock."

Dave's eyes widened and his dick throbbed, balls deep in his own personal whore and savior. "Shit, Blaine."

"Come on, Baby," Blaine half-said, half-whined, "Fuck me."

Dave bit his lip and started to thrust forward, pulling out only a little, each time – needing to be close. Blaine moaned and slid a hand to his own cock, stroking it. Dave saw Blaine shiver and he bit his lips together, uncertain if the shiver meant he was cold or _hot_. He leaned forward, pressing his chest to Blaine's back, hoping to warm him with his body heat. He put his hands on the bench-back, supporting his weight and started to fuck him like a dog, rocking his hips forward again and again, and grunting. Blaine moaned and started to move in a counter rhythm to Dave's thrusts so each time Dave went deeper and their skin slapped together loud, though camouflaged by the sound of the rain.

Blaine slid one hand up Dave's arm caressing his bicep for a moment, then he let go and reached up further, sliding his hand around Dave's neck, cupping his nape tenderly. He hung from Dave's frame while their bodies rocked together – into each other, over and over again, like buildings shaking and colliding in a hurricane. He pushed Dave's head down toward his own, turned his face and pressed their mouths together in a sideways kiss, moaning and lapping at Dave's lips.

"Harder," Blaine muttered against Dave's mouth, but before Dave could even try to comply, Blaine started to rock faster, fucking himself on Dave's cock. He slid the flat of his hand to Dave's shoulder to better support himself and kissed again, forcing his tongue into Dave's mouth as he took Dave's cock deeper into his ass.

Finally, Blaine's head dropped like he couldn't support the weight of it anymore – dumb with pleasure. Animal groans escaped his throat and drove Dave further toward the edge.

As he rocked back and forth with wild abandon, body rubbing and sliding against Dave's bare chest, Blaine dug his fingernails into Dave's shoulder. Dave whined and slid an arm around Blaine's chest, hugging him tight, but Blaine kept clawing at him. Dave bit his lip and closed his eyes – pain and pleasure blending together as he got close. He kept the arm around Blaine's chest and dug his own fingernails in to one of Blaine's perfect pecks, listening, half-dazed, to the way Blaine wailed at that.

Dave fought, tooth and nail, with himself to not come first. He tried not to think about how perfect Blaine felt. He tried not to think about how perfect Blaine sounded and tasted and looked. He thought about something awful, the worst lows he'd ever lived – pushing Hummel, yelling at Hummel, getting rejected by Hummel – and tried, _tried_ to hold back.

"Oh, fuck. I'm gonna come," Blaine muttered. "I'm gonna—" He cried out and Dave felt Blaine clench rhythmically around him. Dave's eyes crossed at the tightness and he released every horrible thought he'd been clinging to, feeling relief and euphoria rush in immediately in their absence. The release drove Dave over the edge. He came and those clenches kept rolling over his cock, milking every last drop.

"Blaine," Dave muttered, voice deep and rough. Blaine's body went limp and Dave squeezed him tighter to his chest supporting his slender body easily with one arm. Dave breathed slow, sneaking in those last few thrusts, listening to Blaine pant, feeling him shake. He couldn't see anything straight – eyes out of focus, blinded. "Shit, Blaine."

He only pulled out when his vision started to return – when his sex-stupid haze started wearing off. Through the whole thing he'd kept Blaine tight against his chest – loved, cherished, precious. He didn't even have to be fully conscious to know he wanted Blaine close. Dave kissed Blaine's neck, and breathed in his scent.

A quiet moment passed and then Blaine laughed. "I'm gonna have to start calling you snuggle bunny," he whispered.

Dave smiled a lopsided smile – still too happy to take real offence at anything. "Call me whatever you want as long as we get to keep doing _this_." He pressed kisses to Blaine's neck. Blaine turned his head and they kissed the rain from each other's lips. For what felt like forever and was probably only a few seconds, they hung over the bench, bodies glued together with sweat and rain and heat.

"Come on," Blaine whispered, pulling away. "We'll catch cold if we stay out here."

Dave straightened slowly, awkwardly and took a step back from the bench. He peeled off the condom, tossing it behind a bush before pulling his briefs and sweatpants back up. The sweatpants felt heavy with the rain. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable. He smirked as Blaine caught his eye. He was struggling to pull up his water-logged jeans, hopping a little like that might help and cursing when it didn't. Dave stepped forward to help, putting his hands on Blaine's hips from behind, rolling the fabric up until it fit over Blaine's ass – tight like a glove. It was so much easier now that his head wasn't clouded by sex.

Without thinking he slid his fingers around to Blaine's stomach and started buttoning his shirt up from the bottom. Blaine leaned back against Dave's chest, groaning sweetly.

"You're like my own personal momma bear," Blaine whispered.

Dave smirked but heat rushed to his cheeks. "Should I stop?"

"No."

Dave smiled wide and kept buttoning slowly up Blaine's chest. He nuzzled against Blaine's jaw and whispered, "You know you're completely crazy, bringing me out here, right?" Blaine didn't answer but made a noise that sounded a little like a purr. "We could get arrested for this."

Blaine turned to look at Dave and laughed. "That's what makes it fun."

Dave rolled his eyes.

"Do you disagree?" Blaine asked, catching Dave's gaze.

Staring at Blaine, wondering to himself, _how do his eyes always sparkle like that?_ Dave said, "Not particularly."

Blaine smiled down at his shoes and adjusted his collar and then shivered as a breeze rolled by. "Hey, where's my coat?" He looked around, thinking. "Wait. Where did you put my coat?"

Dave bit his lip, remembering how he'd tossed it away in his earlier anger. "Shit. I don't know." Blaine gave Dave an irritated look, and Dave threw up his hands defensively. "You'd just hit me over the fucking head, Blaine. What? I was supposed to be concerned about the wellbeing of your coat?"

"My phone is in my inner coat pocket! And now it's missing." Blaine hissed. "I feel like that should matter to you. How the fuck am I gonna text you without a phone?"

"I didn't know that." Dave's pulse was picking up. They were fighting and it wasn't a sexy fight, or a panic-attack fight, it was a real couple fight, even if it was only over a phone. "Look. I'll call your phone. We'll hear it ring. It'll be fine." Dave zipped up his hoodie, covering his chest and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Blaine's number.

"It's gotta be back this way," Blaine mumbled, walking back toward the entrance to the dog park. Dave followed, staring at the screen of his phone as little drops hit it and distorted the image. He tried to shield it from the rain with one hand.

A ring tone started to echo through the trees, and Blaine jogged in its direction. Dave followed close behind, hanging up when the call went to voicemail and dialing the number again. Blaine disappeared into the trees and Dave listened to the wet crunch of branches. He stayed on the path, waiting quietly, and trying to calm his nerves.

"Found it," Blaine called out from behind a tree.

"Is it... is it okay? Running and everything?" Dave bit his lip.

"Yeah. It's fine. It's in a waterproof case. I mean... I knew what we were gonna be doing tonight. My umbrella's kind of messed up though." Blaine emerged from behind the trees, slipping into his raincoat. "Luckily you tossed the coat on a bush folded lengthwise so the inside's not too wet... although it will be now that I'm in it." Blaine smiled.

Dave smiled back, feeling a rush of comfort at the knowledge that Blaine wasn't upset. He felt stupid for caring about Blaine's feelings, especially when it would've been Blaine's own fault had the phone been ruined, but he couldn't help it.

"Come on," Blaine said, reaching out for Dave's hand. "I'll walk you home."

Dave stared at Blaine's outstretched hand, like it was going to turn into a snake and bite at any moment. Blaine stepped closer and grabbed Dave's hand, squeezing it. The touch – but more than that, the squeeze – made Dave's heart thump, made his chest tighten, made it hard to breathe.

"It's ten o'clock at night. No one's gonna see." Blaine gave him an encouraging smile that stuck up higher on one side than the other.

Nervous thoughts fired through Dave's head but he nodded and squeezed Blaine's hand back. That wasn't what Dave was afraid of. That was scary, but that wasn't the scariest possibility. Holding hands meant something, and Dave wasn't really sure what, and _having something_ meant welcoming the possibility of _losing something_. But it was nice – it felt nice – and Blaine was smiling, and Dave felt like he might do anything for that smile.

They left the grove hand in hand, and Blaine struggled to open his umbrella. The spokes were bent here and there and it was one of those automatic button-released umbrellas, but the release wasn't working. Dave dropped Blaine's hand reaching over to take the umbrella, smirking and mumbling, "guess that's what you get for bashing it against my hard head."

Blaine bumped their shoulders together while they walked along side by side, and Dave forced the umbrella open. He handed it back to Blaine, and Blaine pulled Dave closer so they were both under the umbrella. He linked his arm around Dave's at the elbow – another weirdly intimate touch.

Dave smiled and thought quietly as they walked along through little puddles. "You do realize that there's no point in using this," Dave murmured. "We're both already soaked."

Blaine shrugged. "It's a good excuse to stand close to you in public."

Dave smirked, and swelled fit to burst. Blaine could mock him all he wanted for being a 'snuggle bunny,' because any unnecessary tenderness on Dave's side was mirrored beautifully on Blaine's.

They walked quietly back to Dave's house, while Dave mused about what _might_ happen once they got inside. _Blaine thinks he's seen snuggling?_ As the house came into view, the lights were all out. His parents probably thought he was asleep. He wondered to himself if the sound of the shower would wake them up. When they got to Dave's driveway, Blaine pulled away, arm slipping from Dave's, and smiled, but didn't move in for a kiss. Dave frowned, spirits drooping at the distance.

"Where are you going?" Dave asked.

"Home," Blaine said with a shrug.

All of Dave's blossoming plans crushed suddenly beneath Blaine's foot. If he hadn't already said something – hadn't already asked – he would've just let it drop and been depressed the rest of the night. But he had said something, and he didn't want to be depressed anymore. Not if there was a chance to be happy. "You're... you're not gonna stay?"

Blaine's brows knit together. "You... want me to stay?"

"Well, I just thought..." Dave looked off to the side, fighting the urge to just shut up and walk away. Fighting his old instincts. Fighting for the new version of himself that wasn't strong enough to fight for itself. "You're all wet and probably freezing and of course you're welcome to borrow some PJs and stay over."

Dave let himself look Blaine in the face, wanting to see his expression more than he wanted to hide his own. Blaine bit his lip. Beautiful and reserved. _Disinterested? Nervous? Uncomfortable?_ Dave felt his cheeks run hot, and he looked down at his wet shoes on the wet sidewalk. He wanted to take back the offer, afraid that Blaine was about to reject it, but he waited. _Being happy is better. If there's a chance_...

"What about school in the morning?" Blaine asked.

Dave laughed, but it sounded as nervous as he felt. "You wake up freaky early in the morning anyway. I'm sure you could get there on time." Blaine didn't look convinced. Dave looked around thoughtfully – trying to convince himself so he'd have a better shot at convincing someone else. He forced his earlier excitement back to the forefront of his brain and pushed his doubt away – confidence can win the game all on it's own. He looked back at Blaine, smiling a real smile, and stepped forward, closer to Blaine and whispered, "and if you stay, you'll get to keep making fun of me for being touchy-feely, and, of course, I'll have to insist that you shower. With me."

Blaine smirked and rolled his eyes. "Well, in that case..."

Dave smiled hopefully and chewed his lip and looked down at Blaine's golashes next to his own soggy sneakers. "Is that a yes?" He looked up at Blaine, through his lashes.

"Yes," Blaine said, eyes twinkling.


	5. Secret Keeping

_This is a Klainofsky story (Kurt/Blaine/Karofsky), but it starts as a Blainofsky story. The first four chapters are exclusively Blainofsky and then a Klaine storyline begins to develop. __**This IS a love story**__, though at times it may not appear to be. Every chapter contains some form of sexual encounter. This story is NOT for readers with weak stomachs or impressionable minds._

_**Featured in this story:**__ BDSM, sub/Dom relationships, spanking, snuggling, stalking, dirty talk, sexual violence, crazy/stalker/slut/sub!Blaine, Dom!Dave, (eventually) teddy-bear!Dave._

**CHAPTER FIVE – SECRET KEEPING**

"Come on, it's a party. It'll be fun," Kurt insisted, grabbing his coat from his locker. "Don't you want to watch a bunch of straight people making drunken idiots of themselves?"

Blaine sighed, as he checked his phone for the eighth time that hour, wondering if Dave was ever going to text him or if he was going to have to request a response to his earlier suggestion of a hook-up. When he saw there was nothing new – which wasn't surprising as he hadn't heard a buzz – he shoved his phone back in his pocket. "That's all straight people ever do," Blaine said, looking up at Kurt and smirking.

Kurt grinned as he finished slipping into his coat, and took a step closer to Blaine. One of Kurt's pretty little porcelain hands pressed flat to Blaine's chest, in yet another not-so-subtle hint. "Come on. For me. Pleeeeease."

Suddenly, Blaine's phone went off and he almost jumped with excitement, retrieving it as quickly as possible and checking the text.

He opened the text to read Dave's words: "Sorry, I can't do it tonight. I've got a tutor thing... maybe tomorrow."

Blaine's eyebrows knit together.

"Who is it?" Kurt asked, trying to lean over and peek at the screen.

"No one," Blaine said, trying to act casual and walking ahead, forcing Kurt to pause and close his locker before hurrying to catch up. In those few seconds between leaving Kurt and having Kurt right back at his heels, Blaine typed, "No fair, making me wait," and pressed send.

"It doesn't look like no one," Kurt said, breathless.

"It was Mom, telling me what's for dinner," Blaine said with a shrug, looking to the side and pretending he saw something really interesting.

"So, you're coming tonight," Kurt said.

Blaine sighed. "Fine." He didn't have anywhere better to be. "Just... don't let me do anything stupid when I'm drunk. I'll probably do something stupid." Blaine glanced at Kurt with a frown, feeling like he'd made a huge mistake in agreeing. _What if __I say__ something? What if __I lose__ control and confess?_ He'd have to be careful about how much he drank.

Kurt just smiled. "I'm looking forward to it," he said. "Can't wait to see the unlaced Blaine Anderson."

Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Maybe if I get you drunk enough I can have my way with you." Kurt grinned and then added, "kidding."

Blaine scrunched his nose and gave Kurt a "what the fuck" look. _Jesus. No pressure or anything_, Blaine thought.

Kurt's smile broke into a frown and a hard pink spilled across his paper-white cheeks. "Sorry. It was a joke. Don't take it so seriously. Drama queen."

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. Right. Okay. Sorry."

They walked in silence for a while, and Blaine adjusted the strap on his shoulder once or twice, feeling uncomfortable, and miserable that he had to feel so uncomfortable with his best friend. The situation with Kurt was quickly deteriorating. Kurt's interest was painfully obvious, and there was simply no way to make it go away without hurting Kurt.

Blaine couldn't confess to his – _what __is this__exactly? a relationship?_ – his thing with Dave, because he'd promised not to, and because it would probably devastate Kurt to learn the identity of his rival. He couldn't tell Kurt he didn't have sexual interest in him because that wasn't true, and he didn't want to close that door forever if in a month the – _what exactly?_ – thing with Dave was over. God, that was a painful thought.

But Kurt was pushing too hard, and Blaine was getting to the point of doing something drastic to make it stop, he just didn't know what yet.

It would've been better if Kurt wasn't so... delicate about it - dropping all these hints, hints which were getting more aggressive by the day, though they never ventured into physical waters. It would've been better if Kurt just came out and said it. In fact, that was why it would never work. Blaine didn't want to be hinted at. He didn't want to be flirted with. He wanted to be taken. Seduced.

With Kurt it would always be awkward and overly-sensitive.

"How about this," Kurt said suddenly, breaking Blaine out of his reverie, "what if I promise to be a perfect gentleman?"

"Huh?" Blaine looked sideways at Kurt as they passed through the doors and out onto the sidewalk.

"I promise that I will be a perfect gentleman tonight," Kurt said.

"When are you not?" Blaine asked, smirking a little. _Aside from being a total and unconscionable __coquette_.

"Ha. Ha." Kurt looked away, smiling to himself and then looked back at Blaine. "No matter what happens - even if you get drunk off your ass and come on to me - I will keep my hands to myself.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm not worried about that," he said. "You don't have to promise that. That's pretty much a given with you."

Kurt sighed. "So you're coming?"

"Yes. Fine."

#

They stood in darkness, and all Blaine could see was Kurt's profile, silhouetted by the moon flooding in through the open window. Blaine didn't remember how they got where they were. In fact he wasn't even sure on the where in that sentence. It was dark and it smelled like beauty products and Kurt's hair was falling in his eyes and he was beautiful – so beautiful. Like impossibly beautiful. And Blaine wondered how he'd failed to recognize it before.

"Come on," Kurt said, hands on Blaine's shoulders, guiding him backward through the dark.

Blaine tried to remember what was going on. There was a party – a crazy drunken party – at Rachel Berry's. He'd had too much. _Fuck! Did I say something about Dave?_ And now they were somewhere dark, but in between there was something else. _Did Kurt drive us __somewhere__? __Yeah__, that's what happened_. Blaine remembered sitting in the passenger side of Kurt's car, staring out the window and humming along with the song on the radio. _What song was it, again? Survive?_

Blaine stumbled a bit to the side, wrapped in drunken thoughts, and Kurt caught him. Blaine had never noticed how strong Kurt was. "You caught me!" Blaine said, noticing how slurred his speech was and laughing at himself. He tried to take a few steps in one direction.

"No. This way," Kurt said, pushing Blaine gently the other way. Then, for the first time, Blaine noticed the enormous bed that Kurt was leading him toward. His chest tightened in excitement as he stared at it for a moment – at the down turned sheets – and then he felt a light shove and he was falling.

He landed with a soft bounce, face down on the mattress and his pulse picked up the pace – matching his excitement. _Oh, my God_, he thought. _Kurt's going to have his way with me. Oh, my God_. "Where are we," Blaine breathed, entering the tortured, lustful, and ruled role he so loved to play.

"My bedroom," Kurt whispered, rolling Blaine over onto his back. "Shh. Dad and Carol are asleep down the hall."

Blaine giggled, breaking character as Kurt lifted his legs and put them up on the bed, under the covers. "Naughty," Blaine murmured.

Kurt laughed. "Nope. Not naughty. Perfect gentleman, remember?"

Blaine groaned as he realized that Kurt was putting him to bed – not taking him to bed. "Oh, my God, Kurt. Loosen up. Why do you have such a stick up your ass all the time?"

Kurt huffed in the dark. Blaine couldn't see his face, but he imagined it looking insulted - insulted in that way that only that Kurt could be insulted. Like there were emotions that existed only for him. Kurt was so tightly wound. So dramatic. "So hot," Blaine muttered.

"What was that?" Kurt asked, walking away from the bed.

Blaine wanted to sit up and see where Kurt was going, but his head was throbbing and he couldn't move. "What was what?" Blaine asked, voice sloppy.

For a moment, the room was silent and Kurt was far away – in actuality and in Blaine's mind. Blaine thought of Dave, thought of what _Dave_ would do in this situation – what Dave would do with his drunken body – violate it, tease it, tend to it. He thought of Dave's cock deep inside his ass and slid one drunk-fool hand down to his crotch to rub at his half-hard cock.

"You said, 'so hot,'" Kurt answered at last, moving back toward the bed.

Blaine groaned, coming back from his sexy dream world and trying to remember what he'd been saying. The task proved to be consuming enough to keep him from remembering to bite his tongue. "I was probably imagining you if you managed to let go sometime," Blaine mumbled. "Like that's ever going to happen." Blaine rolled onto his side, toward the edge of the bed and pressed his face into the pillow and wishing Kurt would just disappear so he could go back to fantasizing about Dave's big, hard, throbbing cock. Dave's big, muscular arms. Dave's tight, athlete's butt. _Oh, the things I could do to that ass_... Blaine thought and then he groaned loudly, and didn't care if Kurt attributed it to the alcohol or not.

"Lovely," Kurt said with a sigh, walking around to the other side of the bed and getting in.

For a moment, everything was quiet. Blaine lay there, feeling like a bag full of bricks – heavy and solid and built out of blocks – earlier thoughts of warmth and contact dissolved in the alcohol mist.

He started to slip toward sleep but felt movement and his mind grew alert. Kurt was tucking him in. His heart thrilled at even so minor a thing – body desperate, always, for affection. Briefly, Blaine wondered if Kurt's hands would slip under the covers and run over his back, his limbs. He imagined it and felt himself getting hard again. _He could get away with it too_, Blaine thought. _I probably wouldn't remember in the morning anyway_.

"Kurt," Blaine murmured.

"Yes, dear?" Kurt asked, finishing his task and pulling away to settle back into his side of the bed.

Blaine sighed. "Nothing." He rolled onto his stomach and snuggled deeper into the pillows. "Nothing, nothing, nothing."

#

Blaine walked out to his car the next day at noon, head still pounding. He glanced back at Kurt's house, reeling, trying to remember if anything lascivious had happened the night before. Kurt's face hadn't spoken any kind of hint. He seemed irritable but he hadn't said anything about Blaine's behavior the night before. He'd just bitched about his Dad and how he knew he was going to get a talking to for having Blaine stay over.

It was the way Kurt had said, "it's not like anything happened," that left Blaine in the lurch. He'd said it, but somehow Blaine wasn't sure he believed it.

But Kurt then was so _sexless_. Blaine remembered being tucked in and then nothing else. No. Maybe there was something else. Had the word 'naughty' come out of his mouth at some point? His mouth tasted like he'd said, 'naughty,' and maybe 'perfect.'

Blaine climbed into the driver's seat and he opened the center console, rummaging around for his cellphone. He'd hidden it the night before - from himself so he wouldn't drunk dial Dave, and from Kurt so Kurt couldn't check his history. Three new texts. Blaine groaned.

They were all from Dave.

The first was from 9 PM: "Tudoring's done. You want me to come over?" Blaine's heart plummeted as he read it, thinking about what could have happened the night before if he'd turned Kurt down.

The second was from 11 PM: "Drove by your house. Didn't see your car."

The third was from 11 AM – only an hour earlier: "Hang out today?"

Blaine quickly typed a response: "Yes. Definitely. Just woke up. Hung over. Want to see you ASAP." He pressed send and slid his phone into his jacket pocket. He started the car and pulled away.

The response came almost immediately - Blaine was still on Kurt's street when his phone buzzed. He pulled it back out to read, stopping at a sign.

"Hung over? Do anything bad last night?"

Blaine smiled a little, and typed, "Depends on your definition of bad." He pressed send and then had a second thought, and typed a second message, "but seriously. I need you." He pressed send again, and then stuffed the phone in his pocket and started driving in search of fast-food - he definitely needed to make a pit stop for something to soak up all the left over alcohol.

#

Every time Dave got a text from Blaine his heart skipped a beat. Blaine had even programmed Dave's phone to pop up a picture of him when he texted. Dave complained about it being risky - someone could see - but he enjoyed seeing it so much he couldn't bring himself to change the settings. And it was a particularly awesome picture, though he doubted that it was even possible to take a picture of Blaine that was less than awesome.

Dave sat in the recliner, his game of Left 4 Dead abandoned, as he stared at his phone.

"but seriously, I need you," the text read. Dave bit his lip and just stared at it for a moment before typing a response.

"Me too. Your place?"

Dave stared at his phone, waiting for the reply. Knowing Blaine, it would be in at any moment. He waited, chest constricted, and then the picture popped up again. He flicked the text open. "Thirty minutes."

Dave exhaled, and felt a grin starting to creep across his face.

They'd been seeing each other every other night for weeks – sometimes it was even more than that. It was the best adolescent phase Dave ever remembered having - better even than winning the championship game. He kept thinking that Blaine would lose interest - stop texting. _It's only been __a few __weeks_, Dave thought. _Give it some more time, and I'm sure he will_.

Dave got up and shoved his phone in his pocket. He hurried up the hall and took the stairs two at a time. In his room he dug around for a better t-shirt than the mustard stained one he was wearing, and paused to check his ass in the mirror. _I really need to get a tighter pair of jeans_, he thought. For whatever reason, Blaine seemed to like his ass. If there was anything Dave could do to keep Blaine's interest longer, he'd do it. Anything. Even if it meant wearing tight-ass jeans that he would've mocked anyone else for.

He was starting to love that moment (a moment that was awkward and uncomfortable the first few times it happened) when Blaine's sneaky-bitch hands found his ass and squeezed. He was starting to love every single way Blaine violated his comfort zone.

Suddenly, Dave's phone buzzed again, and he yanked it out of his pocket, staring at it puzzled until he saw Blaine's face again. _Fuck, that's a good picture_, Dave thought. _Those fucking lips_... Those lips that had undone him.

It wasn't a text this time. It was a call.

Dave didn't like answering the phone. He didn't like talking on the phone. Or at all really. But those fucking lips. _Those fucking eyes_...

He pressed the answer button and put the phone to his ear. "What's up?"

"Fuck the thirty minutes. I want you in my bed as fast as is humanly possible. Leave NOW."

"Cool," Dave said, like nothing out of the ordinary had been said on the other end, and he started pulling off his t-shirt.

"Good. See you." Blaine hung up before Dave could say goodbye, but Dave said it anyway.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and pulled his clean t-shirt on, checking to see that the shirt was tight enough to cling like Blaine liked it. Blaine was completely insatiable. Dave liked that Blaine was completely insatiable. He wasn't sure if he liked it because it meant he got to get as much fun in as possible in the potentially brief period of time they were going to be together, or if he liked it because it made him think they might have a chance at something longer, realer.

God, every time he felt his cock sink into Blaine's body, relief washed over him like he'd never thought even possible. He didn't care how they did it – didn't care if it was rough and nasty or soft and sweet. It made no difference at all what mood Blaine was in, or what happened. Every time he made love to Blaine – he'd started calling it that around the third time they did it – it was like the world shrank and everything was okay for a little while, even if it all fell apart and turned to shit an hour later.

Which it usually did. Not always, but usually.

The really funny thing was how long it took for him to recognize it – really recognize it and understand it. Dave was gay. Not confused. Not bi-curious. Gay. You'd think that fucking another guy would've tipped him off, but then, it's not like Dave ever fancied himself the brightest bulb in the box. It didn't come all at once. It came slow. It was like every time they did it, a little piece of him was chipped away until the hard shell he'd hid himself in was gone. And then it was just him – or it was almost just him. A few more days in Blaine's bed and then maybe he'd be free.

But he was closer than he'd ever been and he was starting to really understand that _that_ was why it felt so good fucking Blaine. It wasn't even the gay thing. It wasn't that he was gay and being with a guy was natural, although that part of the whole equation was awesome all on its own. It felt like relief because he was being honest in front of someone who knew what he was. It felt like relief because when they were together he wasn't afraid of what he was.

Dave slipped into his skater-shoes and ran out the door, jumping into the driver's seat of his truck and starting it up. He drove and he was halfway to Blaine's when he got another call. He pulled the phone out and answered it without checking who it was.

With a laugh he said, "that desperate for my cock, huh?"

He was greeted with a moment of silence followed by uncontrollable laughter, and that was _not_ Blaine's voice.

"Fuck!" Dave muttered, "Az... I thought it was... I thought you were this chick I've been seeing."

"Yeah, I caught that, dumbass," Azimio said, voice crackling on the other end of the staticy line. "Sounds like it's getting serious."

"Not really," Dave protested. "It's just sex."

Az laughed. "When do I get to meet her?"

Dave sighed, running a hand through his hair and changing lanes while he tried to think of something intelligent to say. "I dunno. She lives a ways away... and she's fucking crazy. It's not like we're a couple or something. Like I said, it's just sex."

"Okay. Okay. So you wanna hang out?" Az asked.

"I can't I'm on my way to see her," Dave explained breathless. "I... You know I would blow her off, but..." Dave searched for a reason he couldn't blow Blaine off but he was actually so completely surprised to suddenly realize he had somebody he wanted to see more than Az, that he couldn't think of anything to say. That had never happened before.

"It's cool dude," Az said, voice calm and reassuring. "You're on you're way to get your dick wet. I get it. Have fun."

"Yeah... right... Thanks, brosef. I'll call you later," Dave said, trying to sound casual - trying to sound like he hadn't just realized that he was falling in- But no. He wasn't. Of course he wasn't. It was a crush. That was all.

"Peace." Az hung up.

Dave dropped the phone into the passenger seat, and pressed the palm of one of his hands to his face, gently rubbing his eyes. "Fuck," he said aloud, all of a sudden. "Fuck. This can't be happening."

He changed lanes, getting ready to turn onto Blaine's street.

"This can't be fucking happening."

When he pulled up to Blaine's house, he parked the truck and sat in his seat for a minute - needing to clear his head - needing to think this through. _What is happening to me? What's wrong with me?_

A sudden knock at his window surprised him so badly that he actually jumped and threw his hands up, before seeing Blaine standing outside the car.

"Fuck! You scared me!" Dave said, loud enough for Blaine to hear it.

"Sorry," Blaine said, but he looked amused. "Come on," he said, motioning toward the house.

Every thought that previously swam in Dave's head evaporated in an instant under Blaine's gaze – _his hair is really curly_ - and he climbed out of the car, following silently. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around the street then let his eyes slip back to Blaine – his perfect hips in his tight fucking jeans, his perfect fingers gripping a paper coffee cup, his perfect hair some how more perfect than ever _because_ it was a mess. Blaine opened the front door and walked in with a completely air-headed Dave in tow behind him.

"Mom? Dad?" There was no answer, so Blaine just walked up the stairs. Dave closed the door gently behind himself and followed Blaine up, eyes on Blaine's ass – completely shameless once they were behind closed doors.

Blaine opened the unlatched door to his room with one finger and walked inside setting his coffee cup on the desk and taking off his pea coat. Dave followed and closed the door and watched Blaine move without saying a word. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket. Blaine sighed loudly.

"You will not believe the night I had," Blaine muttered. "I'm not sure I believe it."

Blaine turned and walked back toward Dave rubbing his forehead. When they were a foot away Blaine looked up with a weak and slightly apologetic smile, then went up on his tiptoes to kiss Dave's lips.

It was one gentle kiss at first, but it turned into more very quickly. Dave slid his hands to the small of Blaine's back and held him as Blaine's tongue teased his lips open. Dave tasted the alcohol and the coffee and something spicy on his breath... and something else, something like strawberries. Then he breathed in deep through his nose, and he noticed the _smell_ for the first time. Such a familiar smell – one that filled him with panic. Dave pulled back and looked Blaine in the face.

"What?" Blaine asked, eyes searching Dave's.

"You smell like... Kurt."

Blaine's cheeks went pink, and he looked down. "About that..."

Dave inhaled sharply. "You slept with Hummel?"

Blaine nodded. "Does that make you jealous?" He asked.

Dave breathed slow and for a moment he didn't answer, and all he thought was, _it would make sense - they would make sense together_. Which was what he thought every time he thought of Blaine and Kurt. And really, Dave didn't think he deserved what he was getting out of Blaine. It was bound to happen eventually.

Blaine looked up at him. Their eyes met. Dave didn't smile but he didn't frown. He did his best to look strong – unbroken, unafraid.

Blaine sighed and slid his arms around Dave's neck, pressing up against him, putting his cheek to Dave's chest. "Yes, I slept with him," he whispered. "No, we didn't have sex. We slept in the same bed. That's all. At least... I don't think we had sex. I remember feeling disappointed about the lack of sex so..." Blaine frowned and looked up.

Dave met Blaine's eyes, nodded and smiled a little. He liked Blaine's inappropriate confessions.

Blaine chewed his lower lip and then mumbled, "If you hadn't been busy last night I never would've been roped into that stupid party anyway..."

"What happened?" Dave asked, kissing Blaine's temple and squeezing him closer and rocking just a little, side to side on his feet out of a nervous habit.

"Just..." Blaine started on an explanation but Dave couldn't totally focus because suddenly Blaine started swaying with him and it felt like they were slow dancing and Dave's heart was thumping hard and heavy. "...a whole lot of me trying to avoid saying or doing something stupid while drunk. I made out with Rachel Berry, and I started hitting on Finn," Blaine confessed, laughing, one hand sliding down from Dave's neck to his own face. He rubbed his eyes. "I managed to stop myself before I ACTUALLY hit on him, but... it was pretty damn close."

Dave breathed in slow and laughed, only fuzzily aware of what Blaine was saying. He felt good and there wasn't any room left for the bad. "What'd be wrong about hitting on Finn?" Blaine and Finn sounded like an equally logical pair as Blaine and Kurt. Equally hot. Dave didn't know how to tell if a guy was gay, but he certainly knew how to hope that one was.

Blaine laughed, but his laugh sounded bitter and it made Dave worry. "Um... Kurt would kill me. Hitting on his brother." Blaine slid his hand down into Dave's. "You do remember that Kurt's my best friend, right?"

"Yeah," Dave murmured, heart racing as Blaine intertwined their fingers. The little touches were still so overwhelming. "You just... never talk about him so... I forget," he whispered, voice deep.

"That's not true, is it?" Blaine asked, looking up into Dave's eyes. "I talk about Kurt."

Dave smiled a little. "You mention him here and there. You just don't TALK about him. I dunno." Dave shrugged. "I just assumed it meant..." Dave looked away for a moment fighting back an emotional response and then looked back at Blaine, smiling again and biting it back. _I can't be jealous_.

"Assumed it meant what?" Blaine asked, looking up with that quiet, empty, questioning look – the look that made Dave nervous.

Dave closed his eyes for just a second, breathing, and then opened them again, forcing himself to be okay. He smiled and looked away and said, "I thought it meant something was going on with you and him. You know." He heard Blaine inhale sharply, and then waited for a bombshell.

"Something? You thought Kurt and I were what? Together? Like I would just not tell you about it?" Blaine asked, voice growing more and more indignant with each phrase. "Just fuck somebody else and not tell you?"

Dave shrugged, smile falling just a little. "It wouldn't make a difference." _It's not like I own you. It's not like I don't know what it feels like to want more than one person at a time_...

"Why?" Blaine pulled away. Dave looked down at him, jolted by the sudden loss of contact and saw the hurt in Blaine's face and it made him feel sick. "Why doesn't it bother you to think of me with other guys?" It was an accusation and Dave didn't know what of.

"Why are you upset?" he asked, frowning and licking his lips and stopping himself from reaching out and pulling Blaine back.

"Because I..." Blaine stopped and turned away, walking toward his desk and leaning against it a little. "Because I'd like it if you cared enough about me to care if I was cheating on you." He was angry.

Dave's heart raced. "Cheating?" _Is what we have together something that a person can cheat on? Are we together?_

"Yes, cheating. That's what they call it when you have sex with someone other than the person you're having sex with." Blaine turned to look Dave in the face. His lips were red. His eyes were dark. "Because unless I missed something, I was pretty sure you were the person I was having sex with."

"But... we're not... I didn't think we were exclusive," Dave struggled to speak and think.

Blaine's mouth fell open and for a moment he just stared. He picked his jaw back up and then shook his head and huffed and spat out, "So you're sleeping with someone else?"

"No. Of course not. Just..." Dave jammed his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

"Oh, my God. You were planning to cheat on me?" Blaine stalked forward, getting up in Dave's face. "If I find out you're sleeping with somebody else, I will destroy you."

The hot spiral of confusion inside Dave hit its boiling point and words came out without thoughts to justify them. "I'm not! Who the fuck else would I be sleeping with? It's not like boys are beating down my door. You're the first guy to ever want me. Jesus Christ! I thought we weren't exclusive because I assumed someone as hot as you wouldn't want to be exclusive with ME." Dave stared at the ground, eyes stinging, nostrils flaring, body tense and big and uncomfortable.

Blaine stepped backward. "What?" His voice sounded soft and hollow.

Dave stepped backward too, heart racing, cheeks hot. He was feeling that panic sinking in again. "Should I go?" he asked. He felt like running away, embarrassed that he'd even said anything.

"No," Blaine said, stepping closer again and sliding his hands around Dave's neck. "No. You need to stay." Blaine kissed Dave's cheek and then his jaw. "Stay." Blaine slid his fingers down Dave's chest and curled them into his shirt, pulling him toward the bed.

_Am I shaking?_ Dave felt like he was shaking.

Blaine pressed kisses all over Dave's face, kicking off his shoes as he walked backward toward the bed. Without letting his lips leave Dave's face for more than a second, Blaine got up on his knees on the bed and pulled Dave along with him until they were both kneeling on the bedspread.

He slid onto Dave's lap, legs spread around him, just the way Dave liked it, and the gesture made Dave's heart flop with excitement and ache and adoration. He put his hands inside Dave's letterman and slid it slowly off so that his hands ran flat against Dave's form - up his chest and down his arms. He took it and tossed it on the foot of the bed.

Dave felt the tickle of tears running down his cheeks and the realization that he was crying just made the crying worse. Dave's face felt like it was on fire, he was so embarrassed about everything that was happening. But Blaine was kissing the tears off his cheeks. Blaine's hands were stroking up and down his arms.

Dave pulled back just a little and reached up and rubbed the back of his hand over his face to get rid of the tears. "What is wrong with me," he muttered. _I never would've cried in front of anyone a __month__ ago_, he thought.

"Nothing," Blaine said with a serious expression on his face. "Nothing is wrong with you." He leaned in and kissed Dave on his lips.

Dave opened his mouth easily, needing any affection Blaine was going to give him in that moment. His arms clamped tight around Blaine's lithe body and he whimpered softly, feeling Blaine's tongue teasing his. Dave felt Blaine's body moving up and down gently as he kissed. Blaine turned his head again and again to get a new angle - like he could make a million kisses out of one.

For the first time, Dave let his tongue slide into Blaine's mouth and Blaine moaned loudly, fingers spreading wide, hands running up Dave's back. Their tongues ran against each other, warm and wet.

Dave's heart raced. He moaned. Something important was happening - a change - and for the first time he didn't feel like he was somehow fucking it up.

Slowly, Dave broke the kiss and lowered his head, pressing his cheek to Blaine's chest. Blaine's hands fluttered up to the back of Dave's head, holding him close and it made Dave whimper. He pushed Blaine down onto his back, and lay on top of him. He curled up in a fetal position, holding Blaine like he was a stuffed animal - precious and private and childlike. He listened to Blaine's frazzled intakes of breath and held on tight. He felt Blaine's fingertips rubbing and scratching at his scalp. He loved those fingers.

For a long time they lay there, quiet. When he trusted himself to breathe again, Dave shifted a little, loosening his grip on the smaller boy, but never lifting his head from Blaine's chest. Maybe the spell was broken by the move, because after another moment passed, Blaine spoke again for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I don't talk about Kurt," Blaine said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Dave's head, "because the only thing I'd have to say about him is how hard it's getting to turn him down, and I didn't want to bother you with that."

"Huh?" Dave questioned, wordless.

"He's... he wants us to be more than friends and... I'm not saying I don't, it's just... I'm with you." Blaine nuzzled the top of Dave's head.

Dave's breath caught in his chest, and he looked up just a little. "With me?"

Blaine nodded.

Dave looked back down again, needing to conceal the expression on his face. Euphoria, bordering on insanity. He squeezed Blaine a bit.

"If... that's what you want," Blaine murmured.

"Ye-" Dave started and then heard how high pitched his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. "Yes."

Blaine laughed softly and squeezed Dave tight.

Dave ran so many questions around in his head. He wanted to know every last detail of what 'with you' meant, but he decided it was best to let it lay since he couldn't even put together a sentence in his head. There was just one thing he couldn't keep himself from saying. He needed Blaine to know - wanted Blaine to know - even if it would piss him off again.

Dave cleared his throat. "Just... just so you know... I'm okay with you doing stuff with Kurt."

For a while Blaine didn't say anything, and that made Dave nervous after everything they'd been through that day already, so he thought maybe he needed to explain further.

"I mean... I. I just... if there wasn't weirdness with me and Kurt, I'd want to... the three of us could... but we can't because Kurt hates me so... I'm just saying I'd be okay with that. With you doing stuff with him, even though I can't."

Blaine's hands ran down to Dave's shoulders, rubbing them gently, slowly, like he was petting a cat. "Okay," Blaine whispered after a moment.

Dave nodded and bit his lower lip, staring at the clock on Blaine's nightstand for no real reason at all. Then after a moment he turned to nuzzle against Blaine's chest and said, "and I know I can't give you all the things he could so... if it meant I got to keep being with you and you got to get all of what you need... I wouldn't... it wouldn't bother me. Just... so you know."

Blaine's hands paused and Dave listened to him breathe. After a moment Blaine whispered, "Okay."

Dave nodded and pressed his cheek to Blaine's chest just a little, feeling strange and small and clingy. He told himself he wouldn't push it further, but eventually he couldn't not ask it anymore so he closed his eyes and spoke. "So... are you going to?"

"No," Blaine murmured.

"Why not?" Dave lifted his eyes enough to see the fuzzy outline of Blaine's face through his eyelashes.

"Because I can't do it without telling Kurt about you - because that would be wrong - and I can't tell Kurt about you - because that's your secret to tell."

Dave nodded softly, and thought, but didn't say, _Maybe I could tell. Maybe, for Blaine, I could tell_. The thought made Dave's heart pound and for a moment he felt like he could do anything if he was doing it for Blaine.

Blaine kissed Dave's temple softly and whispered, "Let's cheer you up." He started lifting just a little, but he was beneath Dave and he wasn't going anywhere without Dave letting him.

"I'm fine," Dave protested, but he pulled away, rolling onto his back.

"Yes you are," Blaine murmured snarkily, lifting up and leering down at Dave.

Dave laughed and closed his eyes.

"Come on, sit up," Blaine commanded.

Reluctantly, Dave sat up and muttered, "What terrible thing are you going to do?" He was already blushing in preparation for some embarrassing act of "cheering up."

Blaine stood and pulled off his sweater and shirt in one swift move. Dave sat up a little straighter, eyes moving immediately to the love-bite on Blaine's stomach - the one Dave put there two nights ago.

"What're you doing?" Dave asked.

"You think I don't know what'll cheer you up?" Blaine asked, smiling that lovely snotty smile.

"I... I don't know how to cheer me up. How could you?" It wasn't like sex was a magic cure-all. It didn't always end in a happier place than it started with Dave. Yet another pang of guilt plucked at Dave's heart, that deep knowledge that he couldn't offer Blaine the emotional stability of a happy post-sex lover.

Dave just thought and sat and stared while Blaine wiggled out of his pants so that he was in his socks and boxer-briefs and nothing else. Dave loved those legs - those fit and tan thighs with a slight dusting of black hair.

"Strip," Blaine ordered. Trying not to stare at Blaine's legs, Dave got off the bed and obeyed immediately. "The underwear stays on."

"Why?" Dave asked, breathless as he dropped his pants to the ground.

"Because I said so," Blaine said, walking Dave back toward the bed when they were both in their skivvies.

"What are we doing?" Dave asked. The odd particulars Blaine kept laying down made him nervous and excited at the same time.

"Sit down," Blaine ordered, pointing at the bed.

Dave climbed backward, back onto the bedspread and Blaine climbed up in front of him, sliding into his lap yet again in that same, oh so loved position, making Dave's heart flutter. Blaine did that because he knew Dave liked it. Blaine did that _for_ Dave.

"I know what you like," Blaine whispered, and he did, and it was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. "I don't know _why_ you like it, but I do know _that_ you like it." Blaine ran his hands up and down Dave's arms and kissed his lips a few times before whispering, "jerk me off."

Dave's heart raced faster. He DID like that. That WAS special. _How the hell __did__ Blaine __see__ that?_ Head swimming with thoughts - hands moving with none - Dave did as he was told and as soon as his hand slid inside the fly of Blaine's boxer-briefs, Blaine's hand did the same to Dave's. They grasped each other's cocks, and their hands began to move. Every time Dave stroked, Blaine stroked.

Dave let out a shuttering breath. "What gave it away?" Dave asked, staring at Blaine, chest tight with adoration and arousal.

Blaine laughed, lips pink and damp and spread. "You always look at me when we do this. You don't always look at me when we fuck. You usually don't actually. But when my hand's on your cock, when your hand's on my cock... those beautiful green eyes open up and they're all mine."

Dave blushed and looked down, wanting to disprove it - to deny that it was possible Blaine had observed some innate truth about him - but Blaine's hand was stroking up and down and twisting so slightly at the wrist. It felt impossibly good and Dave WANTED to look up. He gasped and nudged his forehead at Blaine's jaw. He wanted it bad, but he held back, heart racing. _I can't let him see that. I can't let him know that_.

Suddenly, Blaine's hand squeezed tighter on an upward stroke and Dave's eyes flashed up to Blaine's involuntarily. And once their eyes locked, Dave couldn't bring himself to look away again.

Blaine grinned - victorious.

Dave felt small and fragile again underneath Blaine's gaze. For a moment they breathed and stared into each other and squeezed at each other - arms moving in time. Dave's mouth opened just a little. He couldn't keep it shut. He felt Blaine's hand getting slippery on his shaft, and then he felt precum dripping onto his own fingers.

Dave closed his eyes, getting so close he couldn't keep much of anything up – lost in the build – and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Blaine's. "Love this," He whispered.

Blaine made a little happy noise and then shifted his head slightly to press their lips together.

Blaine pressed kiss after kiss to Dave's softly parted lips, but never snuck in. The kisses brought Dave back to life, still so close but suddenly so desperate to posses Blaine. Dave's hand sped up, and he gently butted their foreheads together, pushing Blaine away so that he could look at him again - ravage him with his eyes. He watched Blaine whimper and melt under his gaze.

They both sped up in their movements, stroking fast. Their breath came in shallow and Blaine bounced a little like he always did when he got close.

Blaine bit his lip while Dave's jaw went slack and they stared – black into black.

Dave felt his chest swell, felt his muscles tighten. So close. "I'm gonna," he started to mutter but it was too late. He came, shuttering and squeezed tighter at Blaine's cock.

Blaine whined at how tight Dave's hand was, bouncing like he needed it to come as fast as possible. While Dave finished - face blank, eyes open and so deep - Blaine stroked him slow, milking him, and Dave stroked Blaine faster and faster.

Dave gasped for air when he finally stopped shuttering. He kept staring, though Blaine's eyes closed. Watching Blaine lose it was a treat, even without getting to stare into him. Blaine writhed and licked his lips, hands slipping to Dave's hips, shoulders twisting, stomach clenching and releasing.

"Come," Dave whispered, moving his hand up and down as fast as he could. "Come for me."

Blaine's body tightened suddenly - rigid and still. Cum spurted up into Dave's hand and Dave milked him slow, watching him. He looked like a greek statue. Then Blaine collapsed with a loud and undignified grunt, and hung against Dave's body.

Slowly, Dave pulled Blaine closer so that their slick bellies pressed together, and he lay back, pulling Blaine down on top of him. He closed his eyes and nuzzled against Blaine's hair and murmured, "damn."

They lay quiet for a while. Dave's chest was tight, his heart warm and impossibly full.

Blaine made a sound like a wild baby animal – purring, cooing – and nuzzled against Dave's chest. The movement and the sound made the corners of Dave's eyes wrinkle in a grin. Every move just amplified Dave's conclusion – Blaine was perfect. Too perfect to be real. He toyed with the thought of saying it - saying what he was thinking. Part of him wanted to so badly. But the moment and the desire passed so instead he just played with Blaine's hair and sighed gently. _I love you_, he thought.

Minutes passed in long breaths.

Dave wondered if Blaine was asleep. He liked the feeling of Blaine's weight on top of him, liked to feel Blaine's body shift just a little with every breath.

"Are you going to come over tomorrow?" Blaine asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Dave smiled. "If you want."

"I do."

A few moments passed quietly, and Blaine's fingertips teased along Dave's ribs. It tickled, but only a little, and it only increased the strength of the memory Dave was trying to fight out of his head. The memory of something long ago. Something perfect and precious and long gone.

"Blaine?" Dave whispered.

"Yeah?" Blaine whispered back.

"I want to tell you something," Dave said. "Something I never told anyone." He could feel heat rushing to his face. He'd told himself a hundred times this moment wouldn't come - he'd told himself he'd never want to tell Blaine. But he did.

"What?" Blaine asked softly, lifting up just a little.

"No. Stay down," Dave murmured. "Can't do it if I'm looking at you."

Blaine settled back down without a question.

Dave swallowed. "We... we used to do that. What we just did."

"Huh?"

Dave chewed his lower lip, trying desperately to find the words to say it without actually SAYING it, but there were no other words that would do.

"I... Me and Az," Dave whispered. His heart skipped a beat and he bit his lip again, closing his eyes and trying to make the stabbing guilt go away. He'd told Blaine about Azimio, but only vaguely. "When we were kids we used to jerk each other off."

"What?" The shock in Blaine's voice bit at Dave's heart.

"It... it was just a thing. Not like a gay thing." He insisted, lifting his head a little but not opening his eyes. "It was just a kids thing. We'd just... do it and close our eyes and pretend it was a girl - or... ihe/i would pretend it was a girl." Dave wanted to pause but it was all coming out – all right then. No stopping it. "And... when we got older and we figured out about... When Az figured out that doing it made us gay he decided we had to stop and we promised we'd never tell anyone, and we promised we'd never do anything like it ever again because if we did it'd mean we were gay and it would mean that all the times we did it when we were kids would mean..."

Dave swallowed hard. It had all come out so suddenly. He hadn't realized until he was saying it how built up it was - like millions of gallons of water behind a breaking levee. "If he knew that I..." Dave swallowed and stared up at the ceiling like the words he was seeking would be written across it, but they weren't, and he hoped that he didn't have to really spell it out – hoped that Blaine understood. "...he'd never be able to look at me again."

For a long time neither of them said anything and Dave was terrified to know what the silence meant - what horrible things Blaine was thinking.

"It was a long time ago," Dave whispered.

Blaine nodded. After a moment he said, "they say a lot of kids... experiment."

Dave nodded miserably. He'd thought saying it would make it better. But Blaine was so quiet. Why is he so quiet?

"You were in love with him?" Blaine asked.

Dave's chest felt hollow, like Blaine had blown a massive hole through it. In one moment he felt so deeply wronged by such an invasive question and so deeply relieved and comforted that finally, after all these years, somebody had asked. After what felt like far too long a wait, Dave whispered, "I think so."

Blaine nodded softly.

"So..." Blaine started and then paused before finishing, "that's why you can't come out." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Dave said, voice hoarse. He licked his lips slowly. "I just... I just thought you should know."

"Thank you," Blaine whispered. "For confiding in me."

Dave nodded.

Again they were quiet. Dave was glad Blaine couldn't see his face. He wasn't crying, but he was very near it. He inhaled suddenly, a deep and ragged breath and then exhaled again.

"That's... that's why I like looking at you when we do that," Dave whispered finally. "I... I like being allowed to." Dave ran the back of his hand over his eyes and laughed miserably.

Blaine pressed his lips to Dave's chest. "Luckily," Blaine whispered, "I like that you like it."

Dave smiled and squeezed Blaine tight.


	6. Tell Me a Secret

**Author's Note:** THE KURT CHAPTER. I know some of you have been looking forward to this and some of you have been _dreading_ this. I have done my best to be true to the characters (in my own fashion) and to treat them with respect and to have them treat each other with respect (again, in my/their own fashion). If you're interested in a bit more info about how I'm approaching all of this, I'll put a second AN at the bottom of the chapter.

**For everyone who feels that the story has gotten too soft of late, fear not.** We are in the eye of the storm. Things are very calm and quiet right now – the sex is gentle, the conversations are emotional, the characters are dealing with inner turmoil. But that entire inner journey is going to explode into external action soon. There is some serious insanity coming your way in the very near future, but I have to develop some important story bits before I can dive into the storm.

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER SIX – TELL ME A SECRET<strong>

"Nothing, nothing, nothing," Blaine mumbled as he hid his face in a pillow and, presumably, drifted off to sleep.

Kurt sighed and closed his eyes. Blaine. Just when Kurt thought he had him pegged – had him examined and defined and understood – he had to do something totally new and throw everything out of whack. It was just like the hickey Blaine tried and failed to hide last month. Kurt hadn't thought that Blaine was the hickey type. More than that, Kurt hadn't thought that Blaine was the type to have a heavy make out session with someone and then never think it necessary to discuss who it even was.

Kurt would've imagined Blaine as the declarant lover, rushing to tell everyone that he'd found someone. He didn't seem likely to keep something like that bottled up. But he hadn't even just kept the identity of mystery-boy a secret – he'd denied his very existence. It didn't make sense.

Either he was keeping a secret or whoever it was, was a random hook-up and there was nothing to tell. And if that was the case, that kind of made Blaine seem like a whore.

Now Drunk-Blaine had entered the equation and thrown all of Kurt's speculations into madness.

Maybe there was no mystery-boy. Maybe the hickey had been from a girl and maybe that was why it was 'nothing.'

Drunk-Blaine wasn't doing a whole lot to beat out the Whore-Blaine hypothesis. Kurt wasn't sure if Blaine had been about to hit on Finn or not earlier, but it sure as hell looked like it. And _making out with Rachel Berry? Of all people. Rachel, freaking, Berry?_ The intolerable bitch who'd already stolen one crush from Kurt.

Kurt huffed a little and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. _Maybe Blaine's not worth all this trouble_, he thought. _Maybe I should just find a new crush_. That usually worked. Find a new obsession to force the old one out. But, if he was honest, what he felt for Blaine wasn't a crush and it was only getting worse as time passed.

He licked his lips, closed his eyes, and breathed. Then very slowly, he let his cheek fall to the pillow – let himself turn to look at the back of Blaine's sleeping head. Those dark curls, finally free of his obscenely over-used hair gel. The look was different, and at the top of the night – before the booze and the hetero-make-outs – Kurt's heart had raced at the sight of it. Blaine, unlaced. Those untamed curls changed something in Kurt – woke something in him. Seeing them free made him think about running his fingers through them, tangling his fingers in them, pulling.

_Why does he have to be so perfect and dreamy and gorgeous? It's not fair. I've finally got a beautiful, talented, and charming guy, who's actually gay and actually wants to spend time with me, and he barely even gives me a second look. He's so gorgeous_.

And he was in Kurt's bed. Kurt had never had a boy in his bed. And it was Blaine. Not some pathetic, settle-at-the-end-of-the-night boy. Blaine. _In my bed. Under my blankets. Head on my pillows. Calling me hot... well sort of_. He smelled amazing. Not that that was new – he always smelled amazing. The scent was masculine but subtle. Kurt admired a man who knew how to pick out good cologne.

Blaine shifted a little, like he was trying to curl up in a ball but couldn't really move, and Kurt's heart fluttered at the sight. He couldn't help imagining what could happen – might happen – some day in a situation much like this. Someday Blaine would be his, and someday that stupid sweater wouldn't be in the way of Kurt seeing Blaine's back, his shoulders, his arms, his sides, his hips, his...

Kurt swallowed and tried to run though the lyrics to 'Not For the Life of Me' in his head. He closed his eyes, trying vainly to remember them and fight down the growing heat in his groin.

Fabric rustled more than a little, like Blaine was rolling over, and Kurt bit his lip. _No, no. Blaine's not here. Try not to think about what he might be doing on the other side of the_-

Fingers touched the bare skin of Kurt's forearm, right above his wrist, where it sat tucked under his pillow. His eyes shot open, but all he saw was the back of Blaine's head. Blaine's fingers curled around Kurt's arm, cupping it. _Is he asleep?_

Kurt's breath came shallow as Blaine's thumb stroked back and forth across the tender skin at the inside of his wrist for a moment and then stopped.

It was nothing – nothing at all – the touch of a hand, and he might've even been asleep. But it was so much more than Kurt could handle. Kurt spoke before he realized he was about to, murmuring, "Blaine?" He couldn't not – he needed to know if Blaine was awake.

A soft, "hmm?" came back through the dark, muffled by the pillow.

"You awake?" Kurt asked, chest painfully tight with the need for something more than just that delicate touch.

Slowly – sleepily, Kurt imagined – Blaine turned his head, sliding that perfect face up out of the pillow until his cheek rested on the silk pillow-case, and his eyes rested on Kurt's face. "Nope," he murmured, smiling a goofy smile, "fast asleep."

Kurt smiled a little – too nervous to really laugh.

For a second they just stared at each other and then Kurt swallowed and forced himself to speak. "You're touching my arm," he whispered.

Blaine grinned, lips still pressed together. "I know. Something wrong with touching?"

Kurt inhaled sharply through his nose and then spoke rapidly. "No. It's just, I wanted to know why."

Blaine laughed then and pressed half his face back into the pillow, leering at Kurt with one eye. "'Cause you're soft. Like the petals of a flower. n'I like touching."

Kurt blushed and looked down, chest so tight he thought he might burst. Blaine laughed at that too, and then his thumb started to rub again and Kurt's brain flew out the window.

"That's like petals too – the way you blush. You blush so hard I can see it even in the dark." Blaine giggled. "You're like a china doll. So perfect and pretty."

Kurt's ability to breathe disappeared momentarily at the word 'perfect,' and his eyes flicked up to Blaine's. He was sure his blush was getting worse, but he couldn't do anything about it. Blaine just lay there, smiling. "Perfect?" Kurt asked, finally.

Blaine's grin widened and then suddenly his free hand was moving up and out from under the sheets. His long fingers found Kurt's cheek and rested there for a moment. "Soooooo perfect," Blaine murmured. "Edible." His fingers slid from Kurt's cheek to his lips running over them slowly.

Kurt's gaze shifted back down – unable to look Blaine in the eye as he did this to him. One fingertip teased the seam of Kurt's lips like it was about to force it's way into his mouth. Kurt had never been touched in so sexual a way by anyone – had never been sized-up, examined, prodded, praised. The thought of Blaine's fingers pushing into his mouth was suddenly thrilling, and the eroticism of it flooded Kurt's body with a painful mixture of arousal and shame. His cock stiffened uncomfortably against his belly and he felt like crying – physically shaking and sobbing – with desire, though he kept himself contained.

Then Blaine's fingers slid away and the sudden absence was as exquisitely painful as the intrusion had been. "That's why I can't be with you," Blaine murmured as he started to pull away and roll over.

Kurt reached out and grabbed Blaine's shoulder with one hand, pulling him back, forcing him to look him in the eye. "That's not a reason to _not_ be with me, Blaine," he hissed as though he were in real physical pain from Blaine pulling away.

Blaine looked at him with a small smile and with sad eyes. "Yes it is," he said, too drunk to remember to whisper. "You're too perfect." The words stung, and there was just enough of a pause for Kurt to feel infinite wretchedness at the rejection, then Blaine explained. "I'd break you."

Kurt inhaled. That idea didn't hurt. It just confused him. His hand left Blaine's shoulder and – encouraged by how forward Blaine was being – he rested his palm on Blaine's cheek. "No," Kurt whispered, voice insistent as though he could convince Blaine if he said it with enough fervor, "you wouldn't."

Blaine looked down and laughed a little, expression growing steadily sadder. He turned his face to nuzzle Kurt's palm and Kurt felt like he might swoon. He kissed Kurt's palm with moist lips and, still close to the soft skin, he whispered, "yes. Yes I would." His eyes moved up to Kurt's face and stared – not searching, just watching – then he kissed Kurt's palm again before pulling away and rolling over to face the empty room. "And I'm too fond of you to let myself do that," he muttered before grabbing a pillow and putting it over his head, ending the conversation.

Kurt stared. Heart pounding. _What just happened?_ He breathed hard, praying that Blaine couldn't hear it or that he wouldn't remember it in the morning. _What in the hell just happened?_

#

The bell rang and Blaine's face stretched into a grin. The end of the day. Time for a play date. He grabbed his bag and hurried out of the room through the bustling crowd of boys in blazers, and dug out his phone to check for a response from Dave – a response to his earlier request that they meet up.

"Not tonight. I'm doing something with Az." Blaine read and frowned.

"All night?" he typed and pressed send, waiting for a reply. No way it would be all night. What did two straight dudes have to do with each other that could possibly last all night? Blaine pocketed his phone and walked down the steps and into the downstairs hall, toward his locker.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, checking it. "Pretty much," was the entirety of Dave's reply.

Blaine stopped in the middle of the hallway and glared at his phone. He thought about calling and bitching Dave out, because he really wanted to see him, but then decided that would be too clingy of him so he pocketed the phone and went to his locker, slamming it open and digging through his books.

"Somebody needs his medium drip," Kurt said, smirking as he approached.

Blaine glanced over at him, still frowning. "Yeah... or something."

Kurt smiled taking the last few steps toward him and stopping at his side. "You need to relax. You look so tightly wound you might pop."

Blaine turned back to his locker and glared.

"Stressed about regionals? Exams?" Kurt questioned.

"Yeah," Blaine mumbled. "And... yeah, I guess." For a moment they were quiet and Blaine felt like he should've started grabbing books or doing something – anything – to cover the fact that he was staring into space, lost in anger. He should've done something to look normal. But he didn't want to look normal anymore. He just wanted to be angry.

"Well, I gotta run," Kurt said. "If I didn't have to be home in time for family dinner I'd stay and try to cheer you up. You gonna be okay?"

Blaine didn't look away from the inside of his locker – scowling at his books. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Kurt reached out and put a hand on Blaine's arm. "Blaine. It's okay. It's just life. We're just teenagers. Nothing is worth worrying so much. Give it time and it'll get better."

That was true. It was only one night away from Dave. He'd be fine. Blaine's spirits lifted just a little and he smiled at Kurt. "You're right."

Kurt leaned in conspiratorially, and whispered, "you look prettier when you smile." He leaned back smiling and then said, "of course... you look pretty even when you're pissed so..." He winked. "See you at rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, eyes on Kurt's face – noticing suddenly how lovely he looked, and melting suddenly under Kurt's happy and undivided gaze.

Kurt nodded and walked off.

Blaine watched him go, leaning against the lockers and thinking. Something was different about Kurt. There was something so much lighter about his step – something so much curvier about his walk. His hips moved from side to side like he was on a runway. He looked like nothing could bother him.

_What's gotten into him?_

Blaine stared until Kurt was gone and then turned back to his locker. _Maybe I should take Dave up on his offer. Maybe I should try to get something going with Kurt_. Blaine grabbed the books he needed and stuffed them in his bag. He closed his locker and headed toward the parking lot, lost in thought. Back in the beginning – back when he wasn't sure that the thing he had with Dave would be a continuous situation – he'd thought about Kurt as an option. He'd thought about training Kurt to give him what he needed. _What stopped me?_

Impatience. He'd been too impatient.

There was no reason to be impatient now. He had all the time in the world, because most nights he had Dave, and that aching need for something dark and wonderful was usually satisfied. He didn't _need_ Kurt to fill any particular need. So maybe he could take time figuring out what needs Kurt _could_ fill. Blaine walked down the outer steps and saw Kurt getting into his beast of a car at the other end of the lot – his baby.

_Baby steps_, Blaine told himself. _If I just take baby steps maybe I could find my way into something wonderful_.

And Blaine wasn't kidding anyone if he tried to say he hadn't thought about the idea of all three of them together. Thought about it and wanted it.

_Maybe I could open Kurt up_.

#

They were arguing, and it made Kurt's insides twist horridly because he didn't want to argue with Blaine – didn't want to argue about anything, but especially not this. This was horrible. B_laine wants to have the_ sex talk _with me? Really?_

"Kurt, you're gonna have to learn about it someday," Blaine said, staring at him with determination.

"Well not today," Kurt insisted, chest tight – so infinitely uncomfortable. "I think I've learned quite enough for today, thank you. I think you should leave." Kurt looked down, trying not to see that look of exasperation and disappointment on Blaine's face.

He kept his eyes somewhere else while Blaine stood up and walked out of the room.

When he was gone – when Kurt could hear his footsteps receding down the stairs – Kurt breathed a little easier. _Who does he think he is? Trying to change me? And after all that crap about being too fond of me to hurt me_. Kurt sat on the bench, arms folded tight across his chest. _That boy is like a puzzle. A maddeningly unsolvable puzzle. And the pieces are always moving around like he's always changing his mind and it makes me want to throw things at walls and grab him and_...

..._kiss him and make him sit still_.

Kurt sighed. He heard the front door close downstairs and stood up, going to his window and watching Blaine walk down the drive. _He wants me. And he might be the only boy around who does... the only one who's an acceptable option anyway_. Kurt's mind leapt to Karofsky any time he thought this and it always just stoked his anger, because what happened with Karfosky hadn't just been incredibly inappropriate and violating it had been confusing. So wretchedly confusing. Kurt sighed a bitter sigh.

Blaine stopped at his car, opened the driver's side door and then turned to look up at Kurt's window. For a moment Kurt just stood there, staring down and wondering if Blaine could see him, then he folded his arms over his chest and glared and hoped Blaine _could_ see him.

Blaine frowned – even so far away Kurt could see that frown. _Does he want this that bad? Does he want me to change that badly that it's actually hurting him that I won't? What is he thinking?_

Blaine turned and got in his car and drove away.

Kurt sighed again and walked back to his vanity, sitting on the plush bench and staring at himself. "I can be sexy," he insisted to no one. "I'm already flawless. How far away can sexy be?" He glared at himself in the mirror, and seeing his own glare made him smile. Because that glare _was_ sexy. The smile less so, so he frowned.

He looked away and then turned back to the mirror, glaring again, and smiled just a little under the anger. "Yeah. I can be sexy. What the hell does Blaine know? I just can't be sexy when I'm uncomfortable." _So find away to be more comfortable_. Kurt's smile widened as he stared at himself and murmured, "confidence is beauty."

#

Blaine walked out of Burt's garage the next day feeling proud of himself – feeling like he'd done something truly good and right. Of course, he had motives for wanting Kurt to know more about sex, but he still felt like the altruism of the act outweighed the self-serving nature of it. Kurt needed to know more. Needed to understand. For all the reasons Blaine told Burt and for all the other reasons.

Hell, maybe just having the act of sex explained would spark something in Kurt. Maybe Kurt would change and open up and hunt Blaine down. People were supposed to be wild animals when it came to sex. Kurt needed to understand that side of himself.

Blaine listened to the click of his shoes on the asphalt as he made his way to the Charger, and he felt all the embarrassment and guilt about his earlier attempts to draw out Kurt's sexy-side with faux acting lessons, melt away.

He felt good.

He slid into the driver's seat and pulled out his phone, dialing Dave's number as he started the car and drove away. The phone only rang twice before Dave answered.

"Hey, Babe, I'm kind of... busy... I'm with Az," Dave said in his not-really-casual-but-trying voice.

In the background Blaine heard a mocking male voice croon, "Baaaaabe."

"Shut up," Dave muttered, lips away from the phone.

Blaine grinned. "Mmm... tell him your sexy-ass crazy-stalker-babe says hello." He imagined Dave blushing at that.

"No thanks, I'm good," Dave muttered.

Blaine laughed. "Okay. Well. When can we meet? I was kind of hoping for an early night in... before my parents get home, so we don't have to be too quiet."

There was a moment's pause, and then Dave mumbled, "not tonight, okay? I want to. Just not tonight."

Blaine bit his lip. It was the second time that week that Dave had picked Azimio over him. It hurt. But it was a tolerable pain. "Okay," he murmured, trying and failing to keep the sadness out of his voice.

Dave didn't reply at first. "Maybe later," he said. For a moment Dave started breathing hard and then there was a pause. "Sorry, I had to get a little bit away from him to really talk. And I only can for a few seconds so... Look, I really want to, you know I want to, I just can't tonight."

"I know," Blaine said, glaring at the road, turning his sadness into anger. "I understand that you have to keep up appearances with Az. It's just... it's fine. I get it."

"Baby, I'm really sorry. I promise I'll be there tomorrow morning, okay? You can call me as early as you want and... we can go somewhere – somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere we can be loud. Just... Just think about it, and text me. I can't talk for a few hours."

"Jesus, Karofsky!" Az yelled in the distance, barely audible over the phone. "You're fucking pussy-whipped you little bitch. Get back over here. We have a party to plan."

"A party?" Blaine asked – chest empty, head racing.

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it later. Bye."

Blaine's phone beeped, indicating the end of the call. For a moment he held the phone to his ear listening to the silence, then he yelled at the interior of the car. Yelled at no one. Yelled nothing. He pocketed his phone and drove on.

The idea of having two boyfriends was sounding better and better all the time. But there was still that tricky little problem – explaining things to Kurt. 'Hey, by the way, I'm fucking the guy who terrorized you for years. Is that cool?'

His phone rang suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts and he slid his hand into his pocket retrieving it. Kurt's face smiled up at him from the screen of his phone. He sighed and put the phone to his ear, answering it. "Hey, Kurt. I was just thinking about you."

"Something good I hope?" Kurt replied across the crackly line.

"My reception's bad, maybe I should call you back." Blaine changed lanes, getting closer to his house.

"Well the conversation should be short, should I just try and get it out before you lose me?"

"Sure." Blaine drove into the left turn lane and stopped for the red, thumb beating a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel.

"I'm stressing over midterms and I'm sure you are too. I thought maybe we could stress together? Keep each other motivated to work. I've got so much studying to get through this weekend and I really want to make a dent in it tonight. Maybe if we get through our work we could incentivize ourselves with something? Maybe a late night viewing of Moulin Rouge?"

Blaine laughed. "I don't know, Kurt, I'm not really in the mood to study."

"Well, maybe that's the best time to have someone forcing you to do it," Kurt quipped.

Blaine laughed again. "I'm kind of... in a bad mood." He didn't want to be the little black rain-cloud hovering over Kurt's night, but then, the knot in the pit of his stomach _was_ loosening slowly. It was loosening because of Kurt, and Kurt wasn't even trying. Maybe hanging out would be good. Get his mind off Dave.

"I could probably cheer you up," Kurt said. "I'm really good at-" the line cut out suddenly and awkward unintelligible bits and pieces came across, "-cheering up-" "-play-" "-fun together-" "-lipstick – not with you, of course, but sometimes – facials-" "-on the carpet-" "-rough-" "-you're a stud-"

Blaine blinked. The light turned green and he pulled out. "Okay, I'm not sure what that last part was. It sounded like you were talking about having a sexual play-fight."

"What?" Kurt's voice came across in that delightfully indignant tone. "I was talking about having girl time. Talking. Watching movies. Snuggling. Cheering each other up. How did you get sexual play-fight?"

"Freudian I guess," Blaine said with a laugh. "Sorry. Um." He thought he could hear Kurt cough on the other end but it might've just been the static. "I guess I can come over for a bit. I don't know about the girl time but..."

"I know. That's what the last bit was. I said something like, 'Not that you'd be into having girl time. I know you're a stud.'" Kurt coughed and this time Blaine was sure he didn't mishear it. "Okay, that sounded less suggestive the first time I said it," Kurt insisted suddenly. "It was more like 'I know you're a stud but even guys can use a little girl time.' I'm just making this worse, aren't I?"

"A bit." Blaine bit his bottom lip, and switched lanes, getting ready to make a u-turn and find his way to Kurt's house. "You're adorable. I'll head over. I can't promise I'll participate in any of your girly sleep over rituals, but I'll try to study. It'll probably be good to not be home alone with the mood I'm in right now." He thought for a moment and then muttered, "Honestly I might just end up distracting you more than encouraging you."

"That's okay. I have the whole weekend. I'm just trying, _valiantly_ I might add, to get an early start."

"Okay, well. Okay." Blaine pulled into the left turn lane. "I guess I'll be there in a bit."

"Wonderful. I'll be ready-" _Static_. "-sexual, you stud." Kurt laughed.

Blaine's eyes crossed as he tried to work out what Kurt just said. "What? You cut in and out again."

"Oh, God." Kurt groaned. "I said, 'nothing sexual, you stud.' It was a joke. Damn you, cellphone. I'm not trying to come on to you, I promise."

Blaine laughed. "Keep telling yourself that, Kurt. You know you want this studly hunk of man."

Kurt laughed but it sounded a bit like he was choking. "Oh, baby. Oh, baby," he said in an overly sarcastic voice.

"See you in a bit," Blaine said, biting back a decidedly unmanly giggle.

"See you," Kurt said, sighing languidly.

#

Even if it was by accident, the twist in their conversation put Blaine in mind of some bad things that he _could_ do at any point when alone with Kurt. He could flirt with him. He could hint at him. He could find excuses to take off his shirt in front of him. He could instigate 'would you rather' conversations and then take them in delightfully naughty directions. There were so many things he could do to start Kurt moving in the right direction without traipsing into relationship-land and therefore having to confess to what was going on with Dave.

But he got nervous. He didn't fancy himself a nervous type of guy, but it was so easy for him to be influenced by the people around him. Dave was angry and dark, so when Blaine was around him he took that on. The Warblers were hammy and dorky, so when Blaine was around them he took _that_ on. And with Kurt?

Kurt was perfect and reserved and calculated. Everything he did was a performance meant to inform everyone around him of how absolutely flawless he was.

So around Kurt, Blaine was flawless too. The polished, gay poster-boy.

At Kurt's house, he slipped right back into his usual patterns of behavior – polite, jovial, friendly, and sweet – and they studied quietly, side by side, sitting cross-legged on the floor of Kurt's room. It was boring, but probably the right thing to do. Every time he started thinking about Dave playing beer-pong surrounded by slutty girls who no doubt had heard rumors about the monstrosity in Dave's pants and wanted a piece of the action and had wandering hands and _a drunk teenage boy might be coerced into doing things that went against even his orientation if the right girl got her hands in the right places and_...

Every time he started thinking about it he got angry, but being around Kurt forced him to catch the anger before it became visible. If Kurt saw it, he'd have to explain it, and he couldn't very well do that. So he got caught in a loop. He'd get angry, catch himself, force the anger down deeper, and focus on his text book to drive the anger away, until he forgot what he was doing and let his thoughts wander again.

It was actually proving to be extremely effective as a studying technique. He was getting more done than he had in one sitting in months. On top of that, it was keeping him from sitting in his room stewing on it until he lost control and decided to do something insane. But it was winding him tighter and tighter every time it happened until he was so high strung his brain started getting impulsive.

"All right. I am done," Kurt said with a sigh, closing his book with a pen inside it, marking his page. "There's more to do, but I can't take this anymore.

"Yeah, me neither," Blaine muttered, glancing up and laughing. He closed his book too with a little sticky flag marking his place. "What now?"

"I dunno. We could talk about what was bothering you earlier?"

Blaine frowned and shrugged. "I don't really feel like it." He did, _totally_ feel like talking about it. He wanted to talk about Dave all the time and never had anyone to listen. "I'm all... wound up. Maybe we could do something to get rid of the excess energy." Blaine laughed. "Maybe some of that sexual play-fighting you were talking about earlier."

Kurt's cheeks turned bright pink and Blaine laughed. The laugh seemed to force Kurt to look down at his lap.

"Your cheeks look like pink rose petals when you do that," Blaine said with a smirk. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

Kurt laughed then and looked up at Blaine like he knew something Blaine didn't. "Yes, actually."

Blaine grinned, entirely too self-involved to guess at what Kurt was thinking – remembering. "You're prettier when you're uncomposed," Blaine said after a moment, eyes roaming over Kurt's face. Oh, he was starting to feel a little wild; a little poised to do something bad, and Kurt was tired from studying, and he looked like he was ready to do something bad too.

"Shhh, don't say that. I like being composed." Kurt giggled playfully, blossoming under Blaine's compliment.

"But you're so lovely when you let yourself be natural. Feel naturally." Blaine blushed then and looked away. He'd gone a step too far and it was time to pull back. He stood, grabbing his book and walked over to his book bag, slipping them inside. "Maybe we could go for a walk or something? I just gotta get rid of some pent up energy." He looked out the window. It wasn't dark out yet, but it was close. The sun was gone.

"It's too bad there's not a party going on. We could go dancing," Kurt said.

Blaine glanced at Kurt with a sour expression, but Kurt was looking at himself in a mirror, touching his hair thoughtfully, and didn't see it. The word 'party' hit Blaine wrong. It made him remember how badly he wished he was with Dave instead. Dave would know what to do with Blaine's pent up energy. Kurt could probably do the same thing, given the right inspiration, but not tonight. Not yet.

"We could go to the park and play tag like little kids," Kurt said eyes lifting to Blaine's face, smiling lips a dark and lovely pink.

Blaine breathed in through his nose, and glanced back out the window. "That actually sounds fun," he said thoughtfully. _Might afford me some frotting possibilities_.

"Oh, my God. I was kidding," Kurt said, covering his face with a hand and laughing.

"Too late. You already put the idea in my head." Blaine smirked and walked over to Kurt, reaching down for his hand.

"Oh, God, you're going to hold me to this, aren't you?" Kurt muttered, taking Blaine's hand. Blaine pulled him up to his feet.

"Yep." For a moment they stood close together and Blaine thought he could feel Kurt pulling him in like a magnet, but their eyes didn't meet and Blaine walked away toward the door, still holding Kurt's hand, dragging him along behind.

They walked to the park, talking about the weather, and Blaine spaced out, trying not to think about Dave at the party. He thought about playing tag and imagined that it wouldn't work out as well as he was hoping – imagined that he'd have to force Kurt into it. The closer they got to the park the less Blaine wanted to play, and he almost said, 'nevermind,' but as soon as their shoes hit the grass, Kurt gave Blaine a light shove, called out, "it!" and ran like hell.

Blaine stumbled from the shove and then stared, wide-eyed after Kurt. He laughed and started running after him, chasing him around the empty play-set. Kurt ran fast, but Blaine was faster.

Blaine ducked under a tunnel tube, using it as a short-cut as Kurt went the long way around and then grabbed Kurt, forcing him to a halt. Kurt laughed.

"Damn you!" Kurt called out as Blaine ran away, and around to the other side of the farthest tower.

Kurt paused, catching his breath, and then started stalking toward Blaine with a predatory look in his eye. "I'm gonna catch you," he said.

The look and the words made Blaine's heart pound. _This was SUCH a good idea_. As Kurt walked slowly around the tower – slowly toward Blaine's side – Blaine paused, watching him and then bolted away, laughing. Kurt ran after him but only for a moment before stopping and returning to his slow prowl.

"Can't catch me," Blaine said, pausing again behind the opposite tower. "Gingerbread man, and all that."

Kurt grinned and laughed. His cheeks were beautifully rosy from the exertion. Kurt came right up to the front of the tower, and feinted to one side like he was about to run. Blaine ran in the opposite direction but Kurt switched mid leap, catching Blaine in the space of two steps, before Blaine could register it and turn. Kurt ran off in the opposite direction, laughing.

"Hey!" Blaine cried out, running after Kurt.

"Smarts beats speed every time," Kurt cried out, hurrying up the steps of one of the towers.

Blaine stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Kurt stopped at the top. They both watched each other in silence for a moment. Kurt faked toward a bridge and then stopped. Blaine didn't move. Kurt stared down, grinning and breathing hard – chest moving as he did. The movement was painfully suggestive. Blaine put a foot on the bottom step and stared up at Kurt with dark eyes. "I'm gonna get you," he murmured. Kurt laughed.

Blaine paused for one more moment and then ran up the steps. Kurt turned and ran up the next flight, laughing as he went and then jumped into the tube slide and disappeared. Blaine followed immediately.

He emerged at the bottom of the slide and looked around to see Kurt running off onto the grass of the nearby soccer field. Blaine grinned and ran after him.

They ran in wide circles around the field. Kurt had good distance on Blaine, but Blaine was faster. He closed in slow, breathing hard and watching Kurt's slender body dart this way and that in front of him. The idea of tackling him to the ground and ravaging him was intoxicating, and he let it run amuck in his head. Kurt's delicate arms and legs. Kurt's bare white neck. Kurt's blue eyes.

"Damn!" Kurt yelled out, stumbling and almost falling to the grass. He caught himself at the last moment and tried to keep going but Blaine was right behind him.

Blaine reached out, meaning to tap him on the back and then run ahead, but his foot caught on the same hole Kurt that had tripped Kurt. He took two massive, stumbling steps as he tried to right himself, but he wasn't as graceful as Kurt. Kurt started to turn, to watch and Blaine plowed right into him, tackling him accidentally to the ground with one dull thud.

Blaine breathed hard, adrenaline pumping through his brain and fogging everything. Kurt groaned. Slowly, Blaine tried to pick himself up. He was on top of Kurt. He started laughing and groaning at the same time.

"Shit," he muttered. "Did I squash you?"

"A bit," Kurt muttered back.

Blaine lifted his upper body off of Kurt, eyes running over the boy below him who slowly lifted a little too. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, voice gruff. "These bones have seen worse." He smiled weakly, never looking up. Blaine realized suddenly that Kurt was looking at his shirt. There was a little rip in one of the side hems. "My clothes on the other hand..."

"Shit," Blaine muttered again. "Kurt, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," Kurt said softly, glancing up into Blaine's eyes and smiling. "The panic attack won't start until I see the grass stains."

Blaine laughed. He felt the sudden urge to lean in and nuzzle Kurt, kiss him, but he resisted. _Not yet_.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered.

"Yeah?" Blaine answered, eyes slipping to Kurt's lips as he forced himself not to kiss them.

"You're crushing me."

Blaine laughed. "Sorry. Got a little... Sorry." He lifted himself up and got to his feet, reaching out to grab Kurt's hand, and then helping him up.

Kurt turned slowly, stretching a little to recover from the fall. "How bad is it?" Kurt asked, glancing back at Blaine.

Blaine ran his eyes over Kurt's backside, trying to find a way to notice anything other than how good Kurt's ass looked in those jeans. "Um. It doesn't look too bad. Should come out?" The green smudges were faint. They hadn't slid so much as plopped.

Kurt sighed. "I knew I should've said no," he said, but he turned and smiled at Blaine, eyes twinkling.

"Come on," Blaine said, mirroring Kurt's playful look, "we both had to get a little silliness out of our systems." He looked around then, and started walking in no particular direction. Kurt followed and then caught up to him and they walked across the field side by side.

"Tell me a secret," Kurt said suddenly.

Blaine laughed and looked sideways at him. "What kind of secret?"

"Doesn't matter. Something you never told anybody."

Blaine thought. He tried to think of a secret but mostly he was lost in excitement that _Kurt_ had initiated a flirt-game before Blaine had even gotten around to considering one. Night closed in on them as they walked and Blaine's brain struggled to come up with a good secret to tell. Nothing came, so he told a lame one. "When I was little, I had a massive crush on Dan Radcliffe. The kid who plays Harry potter."

Kurt laughed aloud. "That's a secret? You've never told anyone that?"

Blaine grinned. "I never told anyone because everyone thought I had a crush on Emma Watson. I had to have an excuse for how intently I watched those movies." They exchanged a glance and Blaine winked. "Your turn."

"Well," Kurt said thoughtfully. "I have to think of a secret of equal weight. And since that wasn't a very heavy secret..."

Blaine bumped their shoulders together.

"When I was little, I had a crush on Ewan McGregor," Kurt said.

"Now I _know_ that's not a secret," Blaine said with a laugh. "You've absolutely told me that before. Besides, who doesn't?"

Kurt smirked. "Okay... here's a scintillating one. I once had an uncontrollable crush on Britney Spears. Eventually I figured out it was because I wanted to be her, but for a long time I desperately wanted to make out with her."

Blaine grinned. "Mr. bi-sexuality isn't real."

"I told you. Scintillating. Scandalous. Your turn."

Blaine thought quietly. If the name of the game was to come up with matching secrets, Blaine had to come up with one to draw out a naughty confession. But he had to think of something that wouldn't go too far and turn Kurt off - something chaste but devious. "I get excited... _excited_-" Blaine gave Kurt a meaningful look and Kurt nodded. "-whenever someone touches my back. I don't know what it is. It just totally does it for me."

Kurt smiled with wide and tightly pressed lips. "For me it's my knees," he confided.

Blaine laughed and reached out like he was going to grab Kurt's knees but Kurt darted to the side. Kurt smirked at him and Blaine sighed. "Damn. Does that make it my turn again?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded.

Blaine walked them toward a little slope, thinking suddenly of groping Kurt's knees, just to see what would happen. "The first time I ever kissed a guy," he said, sitting on the slope and leaning back comfortably, watching Kurt pause but not sit, "was in a closet at my first boy-girl party in middle school. We both knew what was about to go down. We went in the closet expressly with the intent to kiss. He was really nervous and I was just a total little slut. Grabbed him and pushed him against the wall." Blaine laughed.

Kurt sat slowly next to Blaine, positioning himself so that they were both looking out at the field and not each other. "And then what happened?" he asked, looking sideways.

"He ran away and we never talked about it again," Blaine said. "I'm pretty sure that's what started the rumors. I think he told people. Nevermind the fact that he was the one who wanted to go in the closet in the first place."

For a while they were quiet. Blaine twisted a handful of grass and pulled up torn blades. "Your turn," he said softly.

"I've got one, but I'm afraid it's... it's a little bigger than yours."

"Should I tell another little one to even it out?" Blaine asked with a grin, leaning closer to Kurt.

"Sure."

"I keep an extra pillow in my bed that I just snuggle with – like it was a person." Blaine laughed and put a hand over his face. "Okay, that's embarrassing. Yours had better be good."

Kurt laughed. "Boy, you've seen how many pillows I have in my bed. You think I don't snuggle with them?" Again they were quiet. Blaine didn't push Kurt to divulge but he was ready to if the silence went on much longer. "Look. It's... this is pretty weird, okay? And I'm kind of... scared to tell you, or anyone, because I feel kind of... guilty about it."

"I'm not gonna judge you," Blaine said softly. "Hell. I'm sure I've got worse secrets than anything you can tell me."

Kurt nodded quietly. "I'm sure you do."

A beat passed and then Blaine muttered, "what does that mean?" His heartbeat sped up.

Kurt shrugged. "Okay, just promise me you won't repeat it or... I don't know, be a jerk about it?"

Blaine nodded. "Cross my heart, hope to die."

"After what happened with Karofsky... after he kissed me..."

Blaine tried not to move, but on the inside his whole self straightened, focused in, excited and tense, ready to hear.

"I mean... I was yelling at him, you know? Yelling loud and I was being really mean too. I was all... riled up and ready to spit in his face if he said the wrong thing."

"Yeah?" Blaine was breathless.

"And then he kissed me. And of course, I hate him. He terrifies me. I mean, I'm freaked out just by the thought of seeing him in a grocery store. I don't like this guy." Kurt paused. "So it's not about him. Not at all." He hunched forward a little, hugging his knees to his chest. "But... Sometimes I fantasize about it. Not him. But... yelling at someone, being really mean, and having them throw themselves at me. It was... It wasn't hot because it was scary and awful, but if it had've been anyone else... the idea really turns me on." He put his hands over his face. "Isn't that awful?"

"No. Not at all!" Blaine sat up straighter, getting closer to Kurt. "That's totally normal. I think a lot of people are into angry sex."

Kurt groaned. "I'm not talking about sex, just... I don't know. Kissing."

"Kissing leads to sex," Blaine said, voice rough.

"Not for me. Not yet."

Blaine bit his lip and nodded. It seemed like Kurt had no idea what his words were doing to Blaine – no idea how warm and tense Blaine was.

"But even if I was talking about sex, I'm not... I'm not like that. I like romance."

"The two don't necessarily have to conflict with each other." Blaine got up into a crouch and crawled around until he was kneeling in front of Kurt. "Think about Scarlett O'Hara yelling at Rhett Butler. Anger – fury – can be the epitome of romance." He stared at Kurt's face, at Kurt's down-turned eyes. Kurt looked up finally and Blaine kept his gaze tight on Kurt's eyes – on the light of a distant streetlamp reflecting off them. "Maybe you should explore that. You want to yell at people? Try it."

"But it's not nice. It's not appropriate. I'm not saying I've never yelled at anyone or done anything mean. I'm just saying... I wouldn't want to do it unwarranted and I wouldn't want it to end that way with anyone who deserved a real verbal assault."

"What if someone wanted you to yell at them?" Blaine asked.

Kurt laughed. "Come on, Blaine. This is ludicrous. Nobody wants to be yelled at."

"What about me?" Blaine asked and then decided to correct himself – cover himself. "I mean. I'm not saying I like getting yelled at, but if it helped you feel better about yourself I could totally be your punching bag."

Kurt stared at him with crinkled eyebrows. "You want to be my punching bag?"

"I'm not saying all the time, but maybe it would help you – get some stuff off your chest. You've gotta have stuff you want to yell at me for."

Kurt shook his head and looked down at his knees again. "I don't."

"Come on. You've been mad at me before. Bring it back. Get mad. Yell at me for Rachel. Yell at me for the hickey. I know you've got stuff you don't like about me. Express it."

"Why?"

"Because it'll make you feel better." _And it'll make me feel better_.

"But it'll make me..."

"Just do it. The hickey. I know that pissed you off. In fact, doesn't that make you even angrier, knowing that I know it made you mad?"

"Yes," Kurt said, voice dark and a little shaky. "You knew I had feelings for you and you were off making out with some random stranger."

"Louder," Blaine said, smiling – unable to control how excited he was by the prospect of seeing Kurt really, fully angry.

"You knew I had feelings for you, and you were off making out with some random stranger!" Kurt yelled, though it was still a quiet yell.

"And?"

"And then you just flounced around with that big ugly mark on your neck like you didn't even care! You tried to hide it but couldn't and then lied about it to my FACE and then just went around like it was nothing. You weren't even a little ashamed of it." His volume was rising beautifully. His cheeks were dark, his face twisted in actual anger.

"No. I wasn't. I was proud of it," Blaine murmured, feeding the fire, sitting on his heels and looking up at Kurt with reserve – with perfect posture.

"Which is disgusting, by the way!" Kurt yelled without restraint. "If you're going to go around with a hickey, at least be able to name who gave it to you! Do you even know his or her name? Do you even care? You know, you act like a total slut sometimes."

"I am." Blaine's cock was throbbing. If it wasn't so dark, Kurt would've seen it. He wished Kurt could see it. Then Kurt could yell about that too.

"And it was like... RIGHT after your whole, 'I'm in love with Gap boy,' nonsense." His voice was getting quieter, more bitter and less angry.

Blaine blushed and looked away. He was still embarrassed about that. He had thought his feelings for Jeremiah were legitimate, even if they had never been his only feelings. Getting rejected right in front of Kurt had really stung.

"So, what? You just rebounded into someone else right after that? I guess I should thank you for not making it me because I would've been devastated if you used me as a rebound." Kurt clamped his lips shut then and looked away.

"Don't stop, Kurt," Blaine murmured, leaning closer. "Rachel. Talk about Rachel."

"Oh, what? Talk about how you lied – AGAIN? We both know you weren't really into her. So what was that exactly? At the party you're clinging all over Rachel. Then when you're in my bed you're touching my face and telling me how beautiful I am – how EDIBLE I am – and then the next day you're DATING Rachel?"

"I did what?" Blaine's chest tightened. He didn't remember that.

"Oh, that's right. Because you had to go all Ke$ha on me and forget that that even happened. Forget that you were in my bed, running your fingers over my lips. You're a slut, aren't you? That's what you were warning me about. You're a total tease! You're a liar and a tease and I-"

It was too much. Blaine snapped – snapped like he knew he would when he'd asked Kurt to yell at him in the first place.

He lifted up off his ankles and pushed Kurt's knees apart, leaving one hand on one knee, and slid between Kurt's legs, kissing him hard on the mouth. Kurt let out a flustered "mrmph!" as their lips met and then he pushed Blaine a little, hands on Blaine's pecks, but not enough to really move Blaine. Blaine didn't pull away he just pulled down, kissing Kurt's neck, and running a hand up Kurt's chest.

"Blaine, what the hell are you doing?" Kurt whispered breathily. "Oh, God, take your hand off my knee. I can't stand it."

Blaine didn't move his hand. He just kept kissing down Kurt's neck, nudging the collar of Kurt's shirt with his chin. "Keep going," Blaine murmured. "Keep telling me off."

"You are so confusing!" Kurt exclaimed. "Why are you doing this?"

"I lied," Blaine murmured. "I didn't want you to yell to make you feel better. I wanted you to yell because I wanted to be yelled at. You're so fucking hot when you're pissed."

"Oh, God. Blaine." Kurt moaned suddenly and then in a deep voice muttered, "you really need to stop now."

"Push me," Blaine whispered before running his tongue over Kurt's clavicle.

"What?" Kurt's voice sounded dazed – drugged.

"If you want me to stop, push me away." Kurt didn't push. Blaine groaned and then pressed himself down against Kurt until he could feel Kurt's stiff cock against his belly. "Please, push me Kurt," Blaine murmured. "Before this goes further than you want it to."

"Blaine, I want you," Kurt whispered, fingers tangling in Blaine's hair. "Oh!" He cried out, thrusting upward just a little, stiffening, and then collapsing against the grass.

Blaine lifted up, looking down at Kurt who looked like he'd passed out. "Kurt?" Blaine tried to slow his breathing. "Kurt, what's going on, are you okay?"

"Wonderful," Kurt murmured, turning his head to the side.

Blaine laughed out loud, and relaxed a little. He lowered himself. "Kurt, did you come?"

Kurt groaned and put his hands over his face. "Don't..."

Blaine grinned and leaned in, pressing kisses to Kurt's neck. "That's adorable, Kurt." Slowly, Blaine's body relaxed, his cock shrunk until the strain in his pants didn't hurt anymore. It was over. At least for the moment.

Kurt groaned and slowly opened his eyes again, looking up at Blaine who looked down at him. For a moment they just stared and then Kurt blushed wretchedly and covered his face again. "I can't believe that just happened." Kurt laughed and breathed.

"Do you regret it?" Blaine asked, watching Kurt hungrily. _I could totally go for this. I could totally corrupt him. I could watch every scrap of his shame and awkwardness fall away one by one. I could be responsible for this and not hate myself_.

"Not yet," Kurt murmured.

Blaine pulled back further. "Don't regret it," he said softly, kissing Kurt's knee and wishing there wasn't fabric in his way. He wanted to kiss – really kiss – Kurt's spot, whatever it happened to be. The fact that it was his knees was adorable.

"What does this mean," Kurt asked, voice quiet and hollow. "Does it mean anything?"

"Of course it does!" Blaine smiled, and nuzzled Kurt's knee with his nose. "We're friends – best friends. How could it not mean anything."

Kurt took in a dragging, aching breath. "Friends?"

Blaine bit his lip, and pulled back. "Can you be okay with it being like that?" he asked.

Kurt frowned. "Well I guess so because I just let you do that without you changing anything about our friendship."

"So that's a no," Blaine said softly, sitting back on his ankles and looking at Kurt, laying there, legs spread.

Slowly, Kurt sat up. "I just don't understand why. If I understood why maybe I could. But I don't understand why you don't want to be with me."

"I do," Blaine insisted. "But... it's more complicated than that. There are things you don't know about me."

"Then tell me!" Kurt yelled.

"I can't yet."

Kurt sighed and got to his feet. "I'm uncomfortable. I need a change of clothes."

Blaine nodded. Kurt started to walk away, but Blaine reached out and put a hand on Kurt's knee, stilling him. "Kurt," Blaine whispered.

"What?" Kurt asked, voice breathy.

"Think about it. Consider it. It could end up that way – more than friends – it probably will. It just... it would have to start like this. Friends with something extra." Blaine took his hand away from Kurt's knee, and stared up at him.

After a silent moment, Kurt asked, "that's the only way I'm gonna get you?"

Blaine bit his lower lip and looked at the ground. "For now, yes."

Kurt nodded. "I'll think about it."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

I've struggled significantly with my choices on how to play Kurt within the fanon of this story (I'm starting to call it the "bruises-verse" because the characters are diverging so far away from what they are on the show). I've decided to stick to SOME of the canonical maiden-innocence Kurt exhibits, though I've fairly seriously undermined it with Kurt's secret kink. I don't, however, consider this a very large deviation from Kurt's character in the show (Kurt knows how to tell a bitch _all_ about herself – knows how to put a bitch in her place). If you love Kurt, you gotta love his sass.

In this chapter I'm also delving deeper into Blaine's kink and that will continue as Kurt becomes a bigger part of the story. While the relationship with Dave was _caused_ by Blaine's need for abuse, it didn't do much to expose and explore that need. I haven't even scratched the surface yet. We'll continue to explore both Kurt and Blaine's kinks over the next few chapters, and on top of that we're going to get to know Blaine better (outside of his kinks) and see more of his insanity in the coming chapters.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Reviews are _always_ appreciated.


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